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)

ActVII

Friends of New/Old

Chapter 77: Easing the Shadows' Hold

Imladris, October 16th 3018 T.A

The night was vast and endless, an ashen cloak sprinkled with a billion stars—some long dead, others still burning with fierce intensity. It was a night that belonged to both those who held onto hope and those who had abandoned it, a night drenched in the serendipity of duality. The shadows lingered, hungry and patient, waiting for a chance to sink into their prey and grow. But tonight, in the presence of a friend, they found no place to take root, no foothold in the dark recesses of Legolas's mind.

It was a night of quiet, of guarded peace. And for Legolas, it was a break in the relentless cycle he had long accepted—a cycle of punishing nightmares that crept from the cold depths of his memory. They were familiar, these personal specters born of grief and guilt, reminders of the life he had taken and the weight of his own survival. For centuries, he had carried them, feeling their claws sink into his dreams as if they were payment for his sins, retribution for his mother's death. And in a way, these nightmares were comforting, a form of penance he knew he deserved.

But there were others now, newer nightmares with a darker purpose. These dreams had a mind of their own, a force far more insidious. They weren't his creation, nor the fruits of his guilt—they were something separate, something that sought to feed on his very soul. He hadn't realized just how deeply they were draining him, how night by night they were siphoning his strength. Until now, he had shouldered it alone, hiding the effects, even from those he trusted. He had thought it a burden only he could carry, a fate he was destined to endure.

But tonight was different.

Tonight, the presence of Xena beside him kept the new darkness at bay. Her steady resolve formed a barrier, a silent promise that only his familiar ghosts would visit him tonight. Nothing more. And as the night deepened, Xena saw clearly the toll it had all taken on him, the weariness etched into his features, the pallor that clung to his skin. She could see the lines of strain, the effort it took him to keep his pride and strength intact, even as the shadows grew hungrier each night. It wasn't pity she felt; she knew his strength, his resilience. If anyone could endure this, it was him. But that didn't lessen the ache she felt as she watched him suffer, knowing that he'd allowed himself to endure far too much for far too long.

And tonight, something else became clear.

For the first time in what felt like an age, Legolas allowed himself to share the story, to let go of a fragment of the weight he had carried in silence. He told her everything, things he rarely spoke of, memories buried so deeply they had become his alone. The words came hesitantly at first, but soon they spilled out in the quiet, as he unraveled pieces of himself he had long guarded. And in that release, he felt a slight easing of the burden he'd been holding. He hadn't expected it, hadn't wanted to admit it, but something in the telling—a simple confession in the stillness of night—offered a glimmer of relief.

In the dim light, Xena listened, steady and unflinching, her presence unwavering. She heard each word with a solemn grace, her eyes reflecting a quiet understanding that soothed the edges of his pain. It was not in pity or sympathy that she sat beside him, but in solidarity, the silent acknowledgment of shared burdens. And as the stars shifted slowly above, they both found something unspoken—a trust that bridged the darkness, a shared promise to bear the weight of the past, together.

For tonight, the darkness held no sway, and in that moment of shared silence, they both knew that whatever the coming days held, they would not face it alone. As dawn crept into the room, its soft light spilled over the floor, illuminating the faint mist of morning that clung to Rivendell's peaks. The air was sharp with the coolness of night fading, and Xena, who had spent most of the night awake, guarding over Legolas, felt her weariness begin to ease with the approach of morning. She allowed herself only a brief moment to close her eyes, but even in rest, her mind remained alert, the promise she'd made to herself still lingering.

The familiar, intertwined scent of mint and citrus drifted through the room, fresh and clean, stirring her from her light doze. She had grown accustomed to the fragrance over the past months -Legolas's scent, one she'd come to recognize instantly, even find herself drawn to in a way she hadn't expected. It was a quiet reminder of his presence, a grounding note that cut through the residual tension of the night.

Slowly, she watched as Legolas began to stir, his eyelids fluttering open, his gaze meeting hers for the briefest of moments before he shifted, pushing himself up with a soft sigh. He moved quietly, slipping out of bed and padding toward the washbasin. The light cast gentle shadows over his face as he splashed water over his skin, the cool droplets catching the light before he wiped his face with a cloth, his movements practiced and graceful even in the early hour.

Xena watched him silently, a faint smile tugging at her lips as he reached for a shirt, pulling it over his shoulders, his movements deliberate. Then, with a calm precision, he fastened his tunic, letting it fall into place before turning to his hair, the gold and silver strands catching the dawn's light. He gathered the length of it in his hands, fingers weaving a braid with a deftness born of habit, though she noticed how the braid's pattern seemed to echo the same careful elegance that was evident in everything he did.

When he caught her watching, an amused smile curved over his lips, his eyes holding a glimmer of mischief. "You know," he said, his tone light but teasing, "in usual circumstances, someone observing me like this would find themselves in rather significant trouble."

Xena raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms with mock defiance. "Oh? And what trouble would that be?"

He finished securing his braid, chuckling softly as he adjusted the edges of his tunic. "Let's just say that in Mirkwood, it's not common practice for a guest to linger so… keenly in the presence of one getting dressed. A prince's privacy is usually better respected."

A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth, her gaze unwavering. "I don't think 'respecting privacy' was part of our understanding last night," she replied, her tone as firm as it was playful. "And as I recall, you did agree to let me stay."

He tilted his head slightly, conceding with a half-smile. "You're right. I did. But I'm still not sure I invited you to stay to the point of watching every last detail of my morning routine."

"Consider it added insurance," she replied, her voice light. "After all, someone had to make sure you weren't going to disappear back into those nightmares. I'm simply thorough."

Legolas shook his head, laughing quietly. "Thorough," he repeated, the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. "Well, I can't argue with that. Though if you ever find yourself in Mirkwood, I may have to remind you that thoroughness of this kind might carry some… interesting consequences."

"Duly noted," she said, a smile brightening her face as she pushed herself to stand. The shadows of the night had given way to something lighter, a shared understanding, a bond that had deepened in the hours they'd spent together. "But if that's the price of keeping you from the darkness, then I'll gladly pay it."

He regarded her quietly, something unspoken passing between them, a gratitude he held too closely to name. "Hannon le, Xena," (Thank you, Xena,) he said softly, his voice carrying a weight beyond the words themselves. "I… I don't think I would have found rest without you here."

Xena nodded, meeting his gaze with a quiet strength. "You don't have to thank me, Legolas. I'll be here as long as you need."

Xena stood by the window, still dressed in the twilight-blue gown from the night before, her hair slightly tousled, her face touched with the faintest trace of weariness. She'd barely allowed herself any rest, keeping vigil beside Legolas until dawn cast its first light into the room. Though she longed for a brief respite, a moment to wash her face or sink into her own bed, she knew she couldn't leave him—not until she'd ensured he would go to Elrond. Her mind was set. The last thing she wanted was to risk him wavering, to see him fall further under the dark shadow that haunted him each night.

Just as her thoughts gathered with resolve, a knock broke the quiet. Legolas paused, glancing at Xena before moving to answer. She noticed the brief hesitation in his eyes, as if he were considering what it might look like to have her here, still in his room. Perhaps, to her, there was nothing to be concerned about—she'd been there as a friend, helping him through a long night. But for Legolas, raised among the formality and decorum of his kin, the implications of opening his door with her still inside gave him pause.

It was well known that elves, for all their wisdom, were keen lovers of gossip, and even in troubled times, their curiosity could spark quickly. Xena, however, seemed entirely unfazed, her expression unwavering. Her dedication to his well-being was clear in the defiant glint of her gaze, as if daring anyone to judge her for the choice she'd made to stay. Seeing her so steadfast, Legolas felt a mixture of resignation and amusement. With a faint shake of his head, he let her reaction guide him, and without another thought, he opened the door.

Standing on the other side was Míresgaliel, an elven maiden known for her quiet presence and skills. She dipped her head slightly, sparing only a cursory glance at the room behind him. If she noted anything out of the ordinary, she didn't let it show. "Prince Legolas," she said, her voice gentle but firm, "Lord Elrond and Mithrandir await you in the healing chambers. They request your presence as soon as you are able."

Legolas thanked her with a nod, his voice calm, betraying none of the night's strain. He closed the door and turned to Xena, his expression resigned yet tinged with an unspoken gratitude. "It's time," he said quietly, knowing there was no turning back now. The shadows he'd long kept hidden would finally be confronted.

As he stepped out, Xena fell into stride beside him, her steps unyielding. He'd known without asking that she would insist on coming, and though he'd tried to dissuade her, he understood now that it was impossible. She was resolute, a silent shield at his side, her determination clear in every step. He knew she wouldn't leave until she saw him safely inside the healing chambers, face to face with Elrond and Gandalf.

They moved through the quiet corridors of Rivendell, their footsteps soft against the stone, the air thick with the scent of dew and early morning chill. The light had barely begun to filter in through the windows, casting a gentle glow over the arched doorways and intricate carvings that adorned the halls. As they walked, he felt the weight of her presence beside him—a calm, unshakable strength that bolstered him more than he would admit.

When they finally reached the doors of the healing chambers, Legolas paused, drawing a deep breath. He glanced at Xena, who met his gaze with unwavering eyes, offering him a silent assurance. And, for a brief moment, the faintest hint of a smile crossed his face, a glimmer of acceptance. Without a word, he pushed open the doors and entered, feeling her steady presence behind him as they crossed into the waiting light.

In the dim, quiet chamber, Legolas lay on the long, polished table, the faint glow of candlelight casting elongated shadows that flickered against the walls. He'd never imagined he would seek aid from Lord Elrond or Gandalf, even for these new nightmares that tormented him night after night. Yet, here he was, trusting them with a part of himself he had long concealed. He had kept his clothes on, his arms resting at his sides, his fingers slightly curled, and at their instruction, he closed his eyes, focusing on the rhythm of his breathing, willing himself to drift, if only lightly, toward sleep.

Elrond and Gandalf prepared quietly, working in unison. On a nearby table lay a leather-bound tome, the pages worn and ancient, written in Telerin—a language Legolas recognized but did not speak. Elrond, however, seemed familiar enough, murmuring softly as he traced a passage with his fingers, consulting with Gandalf in low tones as they prepared for what would not be a cure, but a temporary reprieve. A chance to ease the hold of the darkness that clung to him.

Outside the chamber, Xena paced, her footsteps light but restless, moving from one end of the corridor to the other. She felt like a silent sentinel, her heart heavy with the knowledge that, even now, she was not by his side to keep the shadows at bay. She hated the thought of him alone in that room, with only Elrond and Gandalf to shield him from what had taken hold of his spirit. Her hands tightened at her sides as she walked, her mind tracing over the fragments of the story he'd shared with her, the weight of his unspoken pain, his quiet acceptance of suffering. Though she trusted Elrond and Gandalf, the distance gnawed at her, a bitter reminder that she could only do so much. But she would stay, she resolved, until he emerged. She would not let him face the aftermath alone.

Inside, Elrond placed one hand lightly on Legolas's shoulder, while Gandalf positioned himself near his head, his gnarled staff casting a faint glow over them. The air felt charged with something intangible as they began, a stillness settling in as Elrond's voice filled the space, chanting in soft, rhythmic Elvish. Gandalf joined in, his voice lower, steady, their words intertwining with the silence. The glow from Gandalf's staff shifted, casting a pale, protective light that fell over Legolas's prone form, holding the shadows at bay, at least for now.

The soft murmur of Elvish filled the room, and with each phrase, Legolas felt a strange warmth spreading through him, a gentle, pressing weight that pushed back against the cold that had lingered in him for so long. It was not a cure, not a true banishment of the darkness, but it was like a soothing balm, easing the deep ache of the curse. Slowly, something within him began to loosen, a sense of clarity returning, the weight in his chest easing just enough for him to breathe without strain.

Elrond's voice softened as he traced symbols in the air above Legolas, his hand moving in a controlled, circular pattern. He glanced at Gandalf, who nodded. Together, they drew from the tome, their hands and voices moving in precise unison, channeling a force that wasn't quite magic, but something older, a power rooted in the words themselves. Gandalf's eyes remained closed as he murmured phrases from the book, his tone solemn, each word a small shield against the shadows that had sought to steal Legolas's strength.

After a long silence, Gandalf's voice softened, his hand moving to rest lightly on Legolas's forehead. He exhaled deeply, his words laced with a wisdom born from years of facing darkness in all its forms. "This binding is not self-inflicted," he murmured, as if speaking to the shadows themselves. "There is a force here, subtle and cunning, tied to the grief and pain you carry. It has latched onto you, drawn from your guilt as if it were food."

Elrond nodded, his expression grim. "We can slow it, we can soothe the worst of its hunger, but we cannot remove it without knowing its source. The shadows have taken root, bound by an unseen thread." His voice grew quieter, almost contemplative. "Without that thread, any attempt to heal will be incomplete. But we can offer you time, Legolas. Time to seek the origin."

As their chant continued, Legolas felt the shadows retreat further, their claws loosening their grip, though they did not vanish entirely. The oppressive weight that had plagued him each night lifted, the cold that had settled into his bones easing into a bearable numbness. His mind, too, seemed to clear, as though waking from a long, fevered sleep. He could still feel the darkness lingering at the edge of his consciousness, but for the first time in weeks, it did not consume him.

Gandalf lifted his staff, allowing the light to slowly dim, while Elrond completed the last words of the ritual, his hand leaving Legolas's shoulder as he took a step back. Legolas opened his eyes, blinking slowly, as if seeing his surroundings for the first time. He felt as though he'd emerged from deep water, gasping for air, the weight of the shadows no longer pressing on his heart.

"Is it… gone?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Elrond exchanged a glance with Gandalf before answering. "Not entirely. The binding remains, but we have slowed it, weakened its hold for now. This will allow you to regain some of your strength, but the source must still be found."

Gandalf leaned on his staff, regarding Legolas with a solemn expression. "Think of it as a truce. The darkness will not trouble you for some time, but it will return if we do not seek out the root of its power. Until then, use this reprieve to regain your strength, to prepare for the journey that lies ahead."

Legolas took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with newfound ease. It wasn't a complete freedom, but it was enough. He gave his gratitude laced with a quiet relief.

Elrond inclined his head. "Remember, Legolas, this will not last forever. But it may give you enough time to reclaim what was taken."

He nodded, taking their words to heart, a faint glimmer of hope filling the space where the shadows had once held sway. With that, Elrond gestured toward the door, signaling that the ritual was complete. Legolas slowly rose from the table, feeling lighter than he had in days.

Outside, Xena continued her restless pacing, her mind whirling with worry, tension coiling in her gut. The door creaked open, and Legolas emerged, his steps steadier than they'd been in weeks, a faint light returning to his gaze. Xena looked up, a relieved smile breaking across her face as she met his eyes.

"They slowed it down," he told her quietly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "The shadows won't haunt me tonight."

Xena exhaled, the relief plain in her expression. "Good. I was ready to storm in there if they didn't."

He chuckled softly, the tension between them easing in the light of dawn. For now, at least, the darkness was held at bay, and as they walked back into the corridor, they both felt the weight of the night's battle lift, leaving only the first glimmers of a new hope.

The day felt lighter, as if a cloud had lifted. Legolas still bore the weight of his guilt and grief—that much hadn't changed—but he felt a new clarity within him. The shadows, those dark tendrils that had held his thoughts captive and drained his strength, were no longer there, and though he was still weary, he could breathe easier. He realized with a rueful smile that it was Xena's persistence that had brought him here. He'd been too proud, too determined to shoulder it alone, and if she hadn't insisted, he knew he would have kept resisting.

But it was only noon, and as far as Xena was concerned, the day was far from over. With the upcoming council bringing guests from far and wide, Rivendell's halls were abuzz with activity, yet her focus remained on Legolas. She'd made a promise to herself, and she would see it through, not letting him brush her off with a faint smile or reassurances of feeling fine.

The afternoon led them to Rivendell's dining hall, which was filled with elven folk and travelers alike, all taking their midday meal. She'd been keeping a careful eye on him, and despite his quiet protests, she urged him toward the table, gesturing to an array of carefully arranged dishes.

"Please, Xena," he murmured, casting a faintly amused, exasperated look her way. "You don't have to keep watch over me as if I were a fledgling. I can assure you I'm capable of taking a meal."

She smiled, unyielding. "And yet, it's been days since you've had more than a few bites at a time. I'm not giving up so easily."

Legolas sighed, shaking his head, but he took a seat at the table, his eyes drifting to the platters of greens, fruits, and bread. As he picked up a plate, Xena filled hers with cheese and bread, determined to ensure he ate without escape.

"Why is it," she remarked as he picked reluctantly at his plate, "that elven food has to look so… green?"

He glanced down at the colorful greens on his plate, faintly amused. "We do have an appreciation for what is wholesome, Xena. Cheese and bread are fine for some, but there are other ways to nourish the body."

"Perhaps," she replied with a smirk, tearing off a piece of bread, "but there's something lacking in your choices. I've yet to see a single proper slice of meat in these halls."

"Likely because you spent too much time among those dwarves," he quipped, unable to resist a playful glint in his eyes. "I'm sure your new friends brought plenty of cured meats along with that hidden bacon."

Xena arched an eyebrow. "Oh, I don't see the harm in a little bacon. It's a fair break from all this green." She leaned in closer, her tone mischievous. "Besides, your father was kind enough to give them a tour of Mirkwood's cells. I think they've earned their freedom to eat what they please."

A soft chuckle escaped him, though he tried to hide it, shaking his head. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Absolutely not," she replied, a hint of triumph in her smile. "I'm glad you agree."

Their lighthearted conversation was interrupted by a voice from across the table—a cheerful, slightly raspy voice that was unmistakably familiar.

"Ah, now there's a face I recognize!" Bilbo Baggins called, a warm smile spreading across his face as he approached with a bowl of fruit and a slice of bread.

"Master Baggins," Legolas greeted him with a respectful nod, a smile softening his features as he turned to the hobbit. "It's been some time."

"Quite so," Bilbo replied, settling himself across from them with a contented sigh. "Rivendell is as lively as I've ever seen it—full of unfamiliar faces, mind you, but a fine place to rest."

Xena glanced at Legolas, watching him settle into the conversation with the hobbit as if their company brought a measure of peace, a rare sense of grounding.

"Fine food here, too," Bilbo went on, gesturing to his modest meal. "Though I must admit I rather miss the comforts of home—a bit of hot tea, a warm hearth, and perhaps a bit more… solid fare." He cast a conspiratorial glance at Xena, who nodded approvingly.

"Finally, someone who understands!" Xena laughed, lifting her bread with a grin.

Legolas shook his head, smiling. "It seems I'm surrounded by those who are all too happy to mock the cuisine of elves."

Bilbo chuckled, taking a bite of his bread. "Oh, no mockery meant. It's all very lovely! Just… not what we hobbits are used to. There's a simplicity to food from the Shire, and perhaps a bit more—ah, what's the word? Stodginess."

Xena laughed. "Stodgy or not, it seems everyone's content to live without a hundred different varieties of lettuce."

Legolas managed a look of mild indignation, though his eyes sparkled with humor. "I'll remind you both that the elves have endured many centuries. Perhaps it's because of our appreciation for such… wholesome fare."

"Perhaps," Bilbo conceded, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Or perhaps you've all just forgotten the joy of a good, hearty meal."

They shared a laugh, the light-heartedness refreshing for Legolas, who hadn't felt such ease in weeks. As they continued their meal, Xena noted the subtle way Legolas's shoulders relaxed, the tension in his gaze softening with each passing moment. She knew he would need time to truly find peace, but for now, seeing him laugh and engage in simple conversation was enough.

As the meal wound down, Legolas caught her eye, a faintly bemused expression crossing his face. "You're really not going to leave my side today, are you?"

"Absolutely not," Xena replied without hesitation. "I'm here to make sure you actually eat, breathe, and rest until I'm convinced you'll take better care of yourself on your own."

Bilbo chuckled as he rose from the table. "Good on you, Xena. I'd say he's in good hands." He gave them both a nod. "Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a rather lovely corner of the library calling my name."

They bid him farewell, watching as he disappeared through the hall, his small figure a reminder of simple comforts and home. Legolas turned back to Xena, shaking his head in mild exasperation. "You're as unyielding as a dwarf, you know."

She smirked. "Then consider it a compliment, because I won't be leaving until I'm sure you're well enough to be on your own."

He sighed, though a smile tugged at his lips. "So be it, then. I'll count myself lucky to have such… persistent company."

As they left the dining hall together, Xena couldn't help but feel a sense of quiet satisfaction. Today, he was beginning to heal. And as they walked side by side through the halls of Rivendell, she knew she would remain by his side, however long it took for him to find his way back to himself.

The day passed gently, and with a rare sense of ease. After their meal, Xena and Legolas wandered through the gardens of Rivendell, the air filled with the mingled scents of autumn leaves and lingering blooms. The silence between them was comfortable, both of them simply enjoying the presence of the other. Legolas seemed lighter than he had in days, his posture less strained, his eyes softer, reflecting the filtered sunlight streaming through the trees. They paused occasionally, Legolas sharing details of the flora with a familiarity that showed his deep connection to nature.

As they walked, Legolas seemed to fall into a more reflective mood, his thoughts drifting back over the years and places he had seen. When Xena gently prompted him with a curious glance, he began to speak, his voice softened by memory.

"Do you know of Erebor?" he asked, his gaze distant.

Xena shook her head, intrigued. "Only from what little I've heard in passing and what I had heard from Elros, you and the rest on our way to Rivendell. I know it's the home of the dwarves and their mountains, but that's about it."

A faint smile curved on his lips. "Erebor. The Lonely Mountain. It has a long history, much of it steeped in shadows… and in greed." His tone softened as he went on. "Years ago, there was a battle there, one known to most as the Battle of the Five Armies. My father sent a company of elves to reclaim what once was a shared realm with the dwarves. But when the dragon Smaug was slain, the dwarves would not surrender the treasures within. The greed of men and dwarves, elves and orcs alike… it all came to a head in that battle."

Xena's brow furrowed. "Sounds like no one left without scars from that day."

He nodded solemnly. "Too many lives lost, and for what?" His voice trailed off as he seemed to recall a memory. "There was someone I knew there—a friend. She was a captain of my father's guard. Her name was Tauriel."

Xena tilted her head, catching the faintest wistfulness in his voice. She recalled the name, they had spoken about Tauriel before, and Kili. "You cared for her?"

"Not as deeply as I might have once thought, but I respected her. She… followed her heart." Legolas paused, his gaze darkening slightly as he continued. "She cared deeply for a dwarf, Kili. It was a connection no one could understand, least of all my father. Their love was… improbable, even dangerous, and in the end, it could not withstand the realities of our world. He fell, defending Erebor. Tauriel was… changed after that."

Xena absorbed his words, her eyes reflecting a deep understanding. "It sounds like she saw something few others do. Love can be as cruel as it is beautiful. You said she had return to Mirkwood?"

"Yes," he murmured, a note of sorrow in his tone. "Tauriel's fate is what often awaits those who follow their hearts in places ruled by pride and prejudice."

They continued walking, Legolas's words lingering in the air. He spoke of Mirkwood, describing his home in quiet tones, his voice filled with both pride and the faintest trace of bitterness. His father's halls, though grand, were places of rigid rule and tradition, where duty reigned and personal desires were often set aside. In many ways, Legolas had grown within those walls, shaped by his father's pride and the need to maintain a balance between the beauty of the woodlands and the darkness encroaching on its borders.

As evening approached, the quietness settled again, and they returned to the guest chambers. The day had been a gentle one, devoid of adventure but filled with a sense of peace that was rare for them both. When they reached Legolas's chamber, he turned to bid her goodnight.

"Thank you," he said softly, a note of sincerity in his voice. "For today. It's been… a while since I've known a day without shadows."

Xena nodded, smiling, though she did not move to leave. Legolas's gaze shifted with a faint look of confusion, and he tilted his head, questioning.

"Xena… you've done enough. I'm more than fine tonight. You don't need to stay."

But Xena remained where she stood, crossing her arms in quiet defiance. "I'll feel better knowing you're resting. And that the shadows stay away."

Legolas sighed, a flicker of his earlier pride surfacing. "This… is not appropriate, Xena," he replied, his tone restrained. "I am… the prince of Mirkwood. There are rules, standards to uphold. Not to mention you're a guest here. And you're… you're—"

"A woman?" Xena finished for him, raising an eyebrow. "Legolas, I've been to places where the rules are dictated by survival alone. What's 'appropriate' means little to me when it comes to protecting someone I care about."

He hesitated, struggling with the ingrained sense of tradition that had always guided him. "And yet… it's a line. I'm not… accustomed to—" He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "To relying on others. To having someone so close."

"Well," Xena said, her tone firm, "it's about time you did. Maybe it's time you let yourself be taken care of for once."

Legolas's jaw clenched slightly. "I don't need taking care of," he replied, his pride lacing his words.

"Of course not," Xena said, unfazed. "But there's a difference between needing and accepting help. I'm not here because you can't handle it—I know you can. I'm here because, whether you like it or not, you don't have to face it alone."

He sighed, casting a frustrated look at her. "What would people say?"

She shrugged, her voice softening. "Let them say what they will. If anyone's going to judge, they'll do so regardless of the truth." She paused, her gaze steady, unwavering. "You're not just a prince to me, Legolas. You're a friend. That's why I'm here."

For a moment, Legolas looked as though he might argue further, but something in her expression gave him pause. She stood resolute, her presence steady and unyielding, a rock amidst the tides of his stubbornness. His shoulders finally relaxed, and he offered a resigned sigh, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Very well," he conceded quietly. "Stay if you must. But only because I know that fighting you on this will be as futile as arguing with the wind."

"Wise choice," she replied, a glimmer of triumph in her eyes. She took a seat near the edge of the room, crossing her arms with satisfaction.

As he turned to prepare for sleep, he glanced back at her, a hint of exasperation softening his gaze. "I'm not sure I should thank you for this."

"Oh, don't worry," she teased. "I'm sure you'll find a reason soon enough."

A reluctant chuckle escaped him, and as he settled into his bed, a faint peace lingered in the room. Xena kept her silent watch as night descended, knowing that this was only a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. And for Legolas, as he drifted into a sleep free of the shadows that had long plagued him, the comfort of her presence was more valuable than he could express, a balm for a soul wearied by years of solitude.

((Upcoming Chapter Seventy-Eight))

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