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)

ActI

Undoing The Quest

Chapter 89: Khafir's Iron Trials

PartI

Haradwaith, December 27th - 28th 3018 T.A

The fire roared in the center of the camp, its orange flames licking hungrily at the night sky. The heat was oppressive, sending waves of shimmering air around the gathered recruits. The Trial of Loyalty Flames was infamous among those who had heard of Khafir's brutal initiation process. The test was as much about psychological endurance and quick thinking as it was about bravery. Xena stood at the forefront of her group, her hand resting on the hilt of her dagger, her blue eyes narrowing as she assessed the situation.

Behind her, Malik, Scarface, Rafiq, Halid, and Azar shifted uneasily. The smell of burning wood and ash mingled with the metallic tang of sweat and fear. They were surrounded by dozens of other newcomers, each eyeing the fire with a mix of dread and determination.

The chief overseer stepped forward, his figure backlit by the inferno. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his face partially concealed by a crimson scarf. What could be seen—a scar that slashed diagonally across his cheek and a single golden earring—gave him an air of danger. His sharp, calculating eyes swept over the recruits like a predator sizing up its prey. He carried a name that matched his reputation: Rhazak, a commander known for his ruthlessness and unwavering loyalty to Khafir.

Rhazak's smirk was visible even beneath the scarf as he addressed them. "You've all come here seeking to serve Khafir al-Rahûn," he began, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "But loyalty is not granted—it's earned. And tonight, we'll see if you deserve it."

He motioned to a long, rough-hewn wooden table nearby. "Leave your weapons there. You won't need them… yet."

Xena was the first to comply, unstrapping her slim scimitar from her back and placing her dagger beside it. Her movements were deliberate, calm, though her mind raced. She stepped back, her eyes flicking to the others. One by one, Malik, Scarface, Rafiq, Halid, and Azar followed suit, albeit with less grace. Scarface hesitated, his hand lingering on the hilt of his blade until Malik gave him a sharp nudge.

"Move it," Malik muttered under his breath.

Rhazak approached with a wooden bowl, walking down the line of recruits. He stopped in front of each person, holding the bowl out expectantly. "Place in here something valuable," he commanded, his tone mocking. "Something that matters to you. Something you'd burn for."

When he reached Xena, his smirk widened. His eyes fell on the pendant hanging from her neck—the pendant of Azrath. Without asking, he reached out and yanked it free, holding it up to catch the firelight. "Zahrya of Azrath," he said, the name dripping with irony. "You are the lucky one tonight. The task you and your men face is simple." He dropped the pendant into the bowl with a hollow clink.

One by one, Rhazak collected Malik's leather-bound journal, Scarface's carved bone knife, Rafiq's silver ring, Halid's coin pouch, and Azar's obsidian talisman. Each item disappeared into the flames as Rhazak dumped the bowl's contents into the fire, the items sparking briefly before vanishing into the inferno.

He turned to a sand timer resting on the table, his smirk never fading. With a theatrical gesture, he flipped it, the sand beginning to pour through the narrow neck. "One minute," he declared, stepping back to watch. "Retrieve your precious items, or let them burn. Those who succeed move on. Those who fail… don't."

The fire spread rapidly, its hungry heat causing even the most hardened men to flinch. The flames danced and crackled, an unpredictable, living thing. Xena's mind worked quickly. She knew the trial was about more than bravery—it tested their ability to strategize under pressure.

Without hesitation, Xena stepped forward. Her eyes locked on the glowing outline of her pendant, half-buried in the embers. The flames leapt at her, licking at her cloak as she dropped to her knees. Using the edge of her sleeve to shield her hand, she plunged into the fire, her fingers closing around the metal pendant. The heat seared through the fabric, but she gritted her teeth, pulling her hand back quickly.

Behind her, Malik darted forward, his long legs carrying him to the edge of the fire. He crouched low, reaching for his journal. His leather gloves protected him just enough as he snatched it from the flames, the edges of the book slightly charred but intact.

Scarface, however, stumbled. His knife slipped deeper into the fire as he hesitated, the heat driving him back. "Damn it!" he hissed, panic creeping into his voice.

Xena turned sharply, her pendant clutched tightly in her burned hand. Without a word, she lunged back into the flames, her arm cutting through the heat as she grasped the knife. The flames singed her forearm, but she ignored the pain, throwing the knife at Scarface's feet. "Move!" she barked.

Scarface scrambled to pick it up, his face a mix of shame and relief. "Thanks," he muttered.

Rafiq and Halid worked together, spotting their items close to each other. Halid used a stick to nudge the coin pouch toward Rafiq, who retrieved it with his ring in one swift motion. Azar, calm and calculated, reached in with a strip of cloth wrapped around his hand, pulling his talisman free without hesitation.

The sand ran out just as the last of them staggered back from the fire, their items in hand. Rhazak approached slowly, his boots crunching against the scorched earth. He eyed each of them, his smirk replaced with a more calculating expression.

It was evident that everyone had completed the task, but that wasn't what Rhazak had been watching for. What caught his eye was Xena's reaction when Scarface failed to retrieve his knife. Without hesitation, she stepped in to assist him. That earned her favor in his eyes, not just for her skill but for demonstrating care for her companions—a quality that intrigued him. However, it was a move that also tested his patience. Rhazak had explicitly ordered each to recover their own object, yet Zahrya had chosen to defy him in an attempt to appear bold.

"Well," Rhazak drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. "We've got ourselves a brave one." His gaze stayed fixed on Xena as he stepped aside, gesturing for her to follow.

Xena walked behind him, Malik and the rest trailing her closely, with a few soldiers and other participants joining the procession. They stopped near a circular pit, its edges jagged and ominous. It was deep—so deep that Xena couldn't see what lay within.

"Jump in," Rhazak commanded, his eyes sharp as he watched Xena step closer to peer inside. When Malik tried to follow, Rhazak raised a hand to stop him. "No. This test is for the brave one alone."

Xena shot him a glare, her anger simmering beneath the surface. She could easily knock him flat, snap a few bones if she wanted to, but she knew why she was here. These tasks had to be endured, no matter how degrading or infuriating. Her glare didn't last long; instead, she turned her attention back to the pit.

As she looked down into the shadows, Rhazak spoke again, his voice carrying a sly warning. "You'll stay down there for one minute. If you so much as signal you're climbing out before the time is up, all that bravery you've shown today will count for nothing."

Before Xena could react, Rhazak shoved her into the pit. The pit was deep, its walls jagged with stones that gleamed faintly under the light of the flickering torches above. The scent of damp earth mixed with a faint, acrid tang that hinted at something alive, something dangerous. Xena had only a moment to register the sharp drop before she felt the air rush around her. Twisting mid-air with practiced agility, she flipped and landed lightly on her feet, knees bent to absorb the impact. The dusty ground beneath her crunched, and the sound of her landing echoed faintly in the confined space.

Above, Rhazak's voice rang out, laced with mockery. "Let's see if bravery feels the same when you're surrounded."

The moment the words left his mouth, the sound of movement filled the pit. A faint skittering noise, subtle at first, began to grow louder and closer. Xena's sharp eyes darted around the dark space, quickly adjusting to the dim light. The pit floor seemed to shimmer, but as her gaze focused, she realized it was alive—with scorpions. Dozens of them, their armored bodies glinting faintly, their pincers snapping in the oppressive silence, and their tails curled, poised to strike.

Xena's heartbeat quickened, but her breathing remained steady. She shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet, her stance low and ready. The creatures began to close in, drawn by the vibrations of her landing. Their small but deadly forms moved with terrifying precision, their pincers clattering against the rocky ground.

Her cloak was the first line of defense. With a swift motion, she unfastened it and whipped it around her body like a shield, sweeping it low to knock away the nearest scorpions. The movement created a buffer, but it wouldn't last long. She needed to outlast the minute, nothing more. The challenge wasn't to fight but to survive.

One scorpion lunged at her boot, its stinger flashing in the faint light. Xena sidestepped, her movements quick and calculated, stomping down on the creature's tail and kicking it away. Another scorpion managed to crawl onto the hem of her tunic, its pincers digging into the fabric. Without hesitation, she reached for it, grasping it just behind the stinger and hurling it into the shadows.

Her eyes darted upward briefly to the lip of the pit. She could see the faint silhouettes of Rhazak and her companions. Malik stood with his arms crossed, a rare seriousness on his face. Scarface looked pale, his usual bravado gone. Even Azar, stoic as ever, seemed tense.

"Hold your ground, Zahrya!" Malik called down, his voice sharp with uncharacteristic concern.

Xena gritted her teeth as more scorpions swarmed. One managed to crawl onto her bracer, its pincers scraping against the leather. She swung her arm forcefully, dislodging it before another joined the fray. The hem of her tunic began to tear as a particularly large scorpion clawed its way up, forcing her to rip the fabric to free herself.

Her footwork became a dance of precision—sidestepping, stomping, spinning. The seconds dragged on like hours, each moment bringing new threats. Yet she remained calm, her movements fluid and deliberate. She knew the goal wasn't to fight them all but to stay alive and wait for her opportunity to leave.

Finally, above her, Rhazak's mocking voice broke the tension. "Your minute is up, Zahrya. Let's see if you've earned the right to climb."

Xena didn't hesitate. She spun once, her cloak whipping outward to scatter the nearest scorpions. Then, with a fluid motion, she crouched low and leaped upward, her hands grasping a jagged outcrop on the pit wall. Her grip was firm despite the sweat on her palms. Her legs kicked off the wall, propelling her higher until she reached another ledge.

The scorpions beneath hissed and clattered, their tails flashing impotently as she ascended. The climb was quick, her movements sure. As she neared the edge of the pit, she pushed off with her legs, flipping gracefully into the air. She emerged from the shadows with a sharp, feral cry—a sound that echoed through the camp like a battle horn. Her flip carried her over the lip of the pit, and she landed in a crouch, her torn cloak billowing behind her.

The gathered soldiers stared in stunned silence for a moment. Rhazak, standing with his arms crossed, let out a low chuckle. "Well, well," he said, his tone dripping with amusement. "It seems the Radiance of Azrath still shines."

Xena rose to her full height, brushing the dust from her hands. Her cloak hung in tatters, and the hem of her tunic was scorched and torn, but her eyes burned with defiance. "Was that supposed to scare me?" she asked coldly, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Rhazak smirked, clearly enjoying the defiance. "It wasn't meant to scare you," he replied. "It was meant to test you. And perhaps… to show the others what bravery looks like."

Behind her, Malik finally let out a low whistle, his smirk returning."Well, that was something," he muttered, though there was a glint of respect in his eyes.

Scarface, still pale, looked away quickly, muttering something under his breath. Rafiq and Halid exchanged uneasy glances, while Azar remained silent, his gaze fixed on Xena as though reassessing her entirely.

Rhazak turned to the rest of the group. "The next test awaits," he said, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "If you thought this was the worst, you'll find yourselves sorely mistaken."

Xena glanced at her companions briefly before following Rhazak's lead. Her body ached, her clothing was damaged, but her spirit was unshaken. This was only the beginning, and she was ready for whatever came next.

More tests followed, pushing Xena, her companions, and the remaining participants further into the camp where even greater challenges awaited. Most were sent into labyrinthine mazes, each designed to test their strength, cunning, and survival instincts. Within these mazes, they were forced to fight one another, retrieve hidden objects, or simply make it out alive.

Xena, Malik, and the others were led to one such structure—a sprawling maze that loomed ominously before them. Its construction was intricate, a clear sign that the warlord's men had invested significant time and effort into creating these trials. The sight alone was enough to unsettle even the bravest among them.

The maze loomed before them like a monstrous labyrinth carved out of cruelty itself. Its high walls were made of dark stone, slick with sand and grime, towering above the recruits like an impassable fortress. As Xena and her company approached, guided by Rhazak and a handful of other guards, the reality of the task began to sink in.

The entrance was a narrow archway flanked by two enormous braziers, their flames casting flickering shadows across the ground. The faint sound of growls echoed from within, mixing with the metallic clang of shifting walls and the occasional, haunting cries of those who had already entered. A foul wind wafted out, carrying the stench of death and despair.

Rhazak turned to address the gathered recruits. His voice was cold and sharp, each word designed to cut into their resolve.

"This is no simple test," he began, pacing slowly in front of the group. "This maze is alive. Its walls shift. Its paths deceive. It is said there is no way out, but that's not entirely true." His lips curled into a cruel smirk. "If you are cunning, strong, and lucky enough, you may find the exit before dawn. Fail, and the sands will claim you."

He gestured toward the archway. "No weapons. No supplies. Only your wits and your will to survive."

Xena's hand instinctively twitched toward her side, where her blade would normally rest, but there was nothing there. They had been stripped of their weapons hours ago. She exchanged a glance with Malik, whose usual smirk was absent. Scarface fidgeted nervously, while Rafiq and Halid whispered to each other, their expressions grim. Azar, as always, stood stoic and silent, his sharp eyes scanning the maze's entrance as though trying to calculate its secrets.

Rhazak's gaze landed on Xena. "Zahrya of Azrath," he said mockingly. "Let's see if the radiance of the dunes can guide you through the darkness."

Xena met his gaze without flinching, her blue eyes cold. "We'll see," she replied, her voice steady.

With a sharp motion, Rhazak signaled for them to enter. One by one, the recruits stepped through the archway and into the waiting jaws of the maze.

The air inside was stifling, heavy with the scent of dust and something metallic—blood, perhaps. The initial path was narrow, forcing Xena and her companions to walk single file. The flickering torchlight behind them quickly faded, leaving them in near-total darkness. The walls were smooth in some places, jagged in others, and every step sent small echoes ricocheting through the maze.

"This place gives me the creeps," Scarface muttered, his voice unusually subdued.

"You're not alone," Malik replied, his tone low and serious. "Stay sharp."

Xena took the lead, her instincts sharper than ever. Her mind worked quickly, noting every sound, every slight change in the texture of the walls beneath her fingertips. Her boots crunched against the sand-covered floor as she stepped cautiously forward.

"Watch your step," she warned, her voice quiet but firm. "This place is designed to break you."

As if in response, a faint clicking noise echoed from somewhere ahead. The group froze, their eyes scanning the darkness. Without warning, the wall to their left shifted with a grinding sound, revealing a narrow corridor. Xena motioned for them to follow, though unease prickled at the back of her mind.

The new corridor seemed innocuous enough, but as they moved deeper, Xena noticed the faint shimmer on the sand beneath their feet. She held up a hand to stop the group. "Something's wrong," she said, crouching low to examine the ground.

"What now?" Scarface hissed, his nerves fraying.

"Quicksand," Xena muttered, pointing to the faintly rippling surface. "It's a trap. Step carefully."

As they began to navigate around the shimmering patches, the sound of growling filled the air. From the shadows ahead emerged a pair of war-beasts—lean, muscular creatures resembling wolves but larger, with sand-colored fur and glowing amber eyes. Their fangs gleamed in the dim light as they stalked toward the group, snarling.

"Great," Malik muttered. "No weapons, and now this?"

The beasts lunged. Xena reacted instinctively, sidestepping the first and slamming her forearm into its side, sending it skidding into the quicksand. The creature thrashed, its growls turning to panicked yelps as it sank. The second beast charged at Scarface, who froze in terror.

"Move!" Xena shouted, shoving Scarface out of the way. The beast's claws raked her arm, tearing through the fabric of her tunic and leaving a deep gash. She gritted her teeth against the pain, using the momentum of her turn to kick the beast square in the chest. It stumbled but didn't fall, snarling as it circled back for another attack.

Azar, meanwhile, grabbed a loose rock from the ground and hurled it with precision, striking the beast in the side of the head. It yelped and retreated into the shadows, the sound of its growls fading.

"Nice throw," Xena muttered, pressing a hand to her bleeding arm.

Azar gave a curt nod. "Keep moving."

Hours passed as they navigated the maze, each turn more disorienting than the last. The walls shifted constantly, grinding and groaning as new paths opened and old ones closed. Booby traps lurked around every corner—spikes that shot from the walls, collapsing ceilings, and even hidden dart mechanisms that fired poison-tipped projectiles.

Rafiq was grazed by one such dart, his arm swelling painfully as they hurried to find an antidote. Xena improvised, using a scrap of her torn cloak to fashion a tourniquet and slow the poison's spread.

Malik took a blow to the ribs from a collapsing wall, and Scarface narrowly avoided a spike trap, losing his footing and spraining his ankle in the process. The group was battered, bloodied, and exhausted, but they pressed on.

By the time they neared the exit, the faint glow of dawn was beginning to seep through the cracks in the maze's walls. Xena's body ached, her injuries burning with every movement, but she refused to stop. Her thoughts drifted briefly to how she had ended up in this nightmare.

Because of that damn blond elf, she thought bitterly, a wry smirk tugging at her lips despite the pain. Legolas and his cursed sense of righteousness had pulled her into a world of danger, and now here she was, half-dead in a pit of madness, trying to survive.

The final stretch of the maze was guarded by one last war-beast, larger and more vicious than the others. Xena led the charge, using her agility to lure the creature into a narrow corridor where it became trapped. With teamwork, they managed to bring it down, narrowly avoiding its snapping jaws.

As the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon, they stumbled out of the maze, battered but alive. Rhazak stood waiting, his arms crossed and a smug expression on his face.

"Congratulations," he said mockingly. "You've earned another day."

Xena glared at him, wiping blood from her brow. "Let's hope it's worth it."

The aftermath of the maze was a grim one. The group limped back from the shifting labyrinth, their bodies bruised, scraped, and covered in dirt and blood. Some were more fortunate than others—Malik, Azar, and Rafiq bore only minor injuries, while Scarface had a twisted ankle and Halid's arm was still swollen from the poison dart that had grazed him. Xena, though wounded, had managed to remain upright, her resolve hardening with each passing test. But it wasn't just the physical pain that gnawed at her; it was the growing realization of how brutal Khafir's trials really were.

As they emerged from the maze, the bodies of the fallen were dragged off, their lives snuffed out by the merciless challenges. The lifeless forms were hauled away with little care, the soldiers who had fallen discarded like broken tools. Xena couldn't help but glance at one of the bodies—a young man, no older than a boy, his face frozen in terror. He had been too slow, too weak, and now he would never see another dawn.

Rhazak's words echoed in her mind as she staggered towards the waiting tents: "The weak do not belong." It was a harsh mantra, but one that seemed to resonate deeply in this place. The weak were discarded, the strong were tested, and the strongest… well, they would stand beside Khafir at the end.

Inside the tent, the air was thick with exhaustion and the smell of sweat and blood. A few guards stood by the entrance, ensuring that no one would try to escape or fight back. Xena and the rest of her group were given bowls of water, cloths to clean themselves, and basic salves to treat their wounds. A rough-hewn bench served as the makeshift table for their belongings, and the only light came from a single flickering lantern at the center of the tent.

Xena was sitting near the edge of the tent, cleaning the scratches from the warg's claws on her forearm. The pain was dull but persistent, and she gritted her teeth as she dabbed at the wound with the water. Her eyes flickered over to her companions, each of them lost in their own thoughts as they tended to their injuries.

Scarface, already grumbling, broke the silence first. "This isn't worth it. A few gold coins for this… it's madness. We risked our lives, and for what? To die in some desert for a man who's probably already forgotten about us?"

Xena's hand paused, her gaze hardening. She looked up at him, her voice steady but laced with a quiet threat. "You could always run, Scarface. No one's forcing you to stay."

Scarface shot her a glare, shaking his head. "I'm not the one who's in charge here, Zahrya," he muttered, his voice low but tinged with frustration. "But I'm telling you, this isn't worth it."

Before another word could be exchanged, Malik stepped in, cutting off any potential argument. He caught Xena's gaze for a brief moment, his usual smirk replaced with a more thoughtful expression. "Scarface isn't wrong, though," he said, voice calm but serious. "We're being put through hell, and the pay doesn't seem like it's worth the price of our lives." He looked at Xena, his tone neutral but expectant. "Do you think we're being underpaid for something like this?"

Xena didn't respond immediately. She dipped the cloth back into the water, wringing it out before gently pressing it against the wound again. The question lingered in the air, but Xena's mind was elsewhere, caught in the weight of what they had just endured. She had always known the journey to join Khafir's forces would be treacherous, but this? This felt different.

The brutality of the trials, the constant risk of death—nothing about it felt like it was leading to a cause worth dying for. She thought about the pit, the scorpions, the warg, and how close she had come to losing everything. But what truly gnawed at her now was Khafir himself.

Was this the kind of man she was dealing with?

As she finished cleaning her wound, she finally spoke. "I've seen warlords like Khafir before," she said, her voice calm but thick with experience. "They don't care about loyalty or worth. They care about power. They care about control. And if this is the price we have to pay to stay in his good graces, then it's a high price indeed." She looked up at Malik and the others. "But don't mistake me. This isn't about the gold. This is about survival. And right now, this is where survival leads."

Scarface snorted, muttering under his breath, but Xena could see the unease in his eyes. They all felt it—the creeping realization that the cost of their survival was going to be far greater than any of them had anticipated.

Azar, who had been silent through most of this, finally spoke up. His voice was measured, but there was an edge to it. "We've crossed into dangerous waters. But we knew that when we stepped into this camp. The question is, how far are we willing to go before we lose ourselves completely?"

Xena didn't answer right away. Instead, she glanced over at Rafiq and Halid, who were tending to their own wounds. The tension in the tent was palpable, each of them silently weighing their options. They were all in this together—for now—but the longer they stayed, the more the cracks would show.

She exhaled slowly, letting the air fill her lungs before releasing it in a quiet sigh. "We're here because I need to find a way in," she said, her voice quieter now, though still firm. "I need to find our way through this, and I still need you with me. Even if I might end up paying you more golden coins.."

Malik leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. "And you think we'll get out of this in one piece?"

"I'll make sure of it," Xena replied, her voice steady, though the uncertainty lingered in her heart.

The fire outside the tent flickered through the fabric, casting long shadows across the floor. They had survived the first trial, but Xena knew—deep down—that there were darker tests ahead. The night was far from over, and as the stars began to blink into the dark sky above, she couldn't shake the thought of Khafir's cruel smile and what lay waiting for them next.

She thought of Legolas then, and the weight of the promises she had made, the reasons she had come to this place. 'Because of him,' she thought bitterly. 'Because of that damn blond elf.'

((Upcoming Chapter Ninety))

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