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 90: Khafir's Iron Trials

PartII

Haradwaith, December 29th 3018 T.A - January 3rd 3019

The sun had barely risen above the horizon when the summons came. A guard stepped into the tent, his shadow long and sharp against the fabric, and barked the order: "Get up! Move! Rhazak awaits."

Xena was the first to rise, her body sore but her movements deliberate. Her wounds, hastily bandaged during their short rest, pulled with every step, but she ignored the discomfort. Malik, leaning lazily against the wall moments earlier, now stretched and cracked his neck. "Well," he muttered with a smirk, "I guess nap time's over."

Scarface groaned as he struggled to his feet. "This is insane," he grumbled. "What's next? They throw us into a pit with nothing but our teeth to fight?"

"Probably," Malik replied dryly, grabbing his water skin. "But I doubt you'd last long."

"Enough," Xena snapped, her tone sharp. Her piercing blue eyes cut through the rising tension in the tent. "Let's go."

Azar, ever silent, nodded and followed without complaint. Rafiq and Halid exchanged uneasy glances but fell in line. Scarface trailed behind, muttering under his breath.

The survivors of the first trial were gathered in the open, where the full weight of the desert sun bore down on them. The sand beneath their feet was already warm, promising to become blistering as the day progressed. Rhazak stood at the center, flanked by a pair of guards. His crimson scarf fluttered in the dry wind, and his golden earring caught the sunlight, gleaming like a predator's eye.

Xena scanned the crowd. What had been a sizable group before the trials was now whittled down to less than half. Those who remained bore fresh wounds, their bodies marked with the brutality of the maze and the pit. Some were silent and focused, while others whispered nervously, their fear palpable.

Rhazak raised a hand, silencing the murmurs. "Congratulations," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "You've survived… barely. But survival is not enough. Khafir has no use for the weak or the complacent. If you want to serve him, you'll prove it again."

He gestured behind him, where several heavy stones lay in the sand, their surfaces smooth but unyielding. A collective murmur rippled through the group as they noticed the chains and shackles attached to each stone.

"For this trial," Rhazak continued, his smirk growing, "you'll be bound to these weights. Your task is simple: drag them across the desert to the flag in the distance." He pointed to a faint speck on the horizon, barely visible through the heat haze. "You have three days. No weapons. No tools. Just you and your will to survive."

A guard stepped forward, holding a length of chain with an iron shackle at the end. "If you die, the desert will claim you," Rhazak added, his tone cold. "If you kill your rivals, you may use their bones as tools or weapons. The choice is yours."

The brutal simplicity of the challenge hung in the air. Scarface's face twisted in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered. "This isn't a test—it's a death sentence."

"Then leave," Xena said sharply, her voice cutting through the grumbling. She didn't turn to look at him, her gaze fixed on the stones. "No one's keeping you here."

Scarface opened his mouth to retort, but Malik stepped between them, raising a hand. "Easy, easy," he said with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Let's not start killing each other before the trial even begins."

Halid crossed his arms, his face pale. "We don't have enough water for this," he muttered. "Not for three days."

"We'll manage," Xena said, her tone leaving no room for argument. She glanced at Malik, who shrugged, then at Azar, whose expression was unreadable as always.

Rhazak's voice cut through their murmurs. "Enough talk! Get in line."

One by one, the recruits were bound to the heavy stones. The iron shackles bit into their ankles, the chains long enough to allow movement but short enough to ensure that the weight would always drag behind them. Xena winced as the metal snapped shut around her ankle, the rough edges pressing into her skin. The stone she was assigned was as tall as her knee and twice as wide, its surface hot to the touch from the sun.

Rhazak walked down the line, inspecting each recruit as they were shackled. When he reached Xena, he paused, his smirk returning. "Zahrya of Azrath," he said, his tone mocking. "I wonder if the Radiance of the Dunes will shine so brightly after three days of this."

Xena didn't respond. Her piercing gaze met his, and for a moment, the smirk faltered. Then he chuckled, stepping away.

"Begin!" he shouted.

The guards retreated to the edge of the camp, their silhouettes disappearing into the haze of the desert, leaving the recruits alone under the relentless sun. The heat was oppressive, pressing down on them like an unseen hand, and the sands shimmered, promising no reprieve. Each step was a battle, every breath a reminder of how harsh the Haradwaith desert could be.

Xena gritted her teeth as she gripped the chain tethered to the heavy stone at her ankles. She leaned forward, her muscles taut with effort as she pulled. The stone, stubborn and sun-scorched, sank slightly into the sand before finally shifting. Each step forward felt like a victory, though it came at the cost of her energy.

Behind her, Malik dragged his own burden, sweat pouring down his face and soaking into the collar of his tunic. Despite the strain, he couldn't resist a comment. "So," he panted, his voice edged with strained humor, "what do you think? Best vacation ever?"

"Shut up, Malik," Xena snapped, not even sparing him a glance. Her focus remained on the horizon, where the distant flag fluttered mockingly in the shimmering heat.

"Always the optimist," Malik muttered, though his tone held more respect than sarcasm.

A sharp curse broke the rhythm of their movements. Behind them, Scarface stumbled, his stone jerking to a stop and yanking the chain tight around his ankle. He kicked at the ground in frustration, sending sand flying.

"This is impossible!" he shouted, his voice cracking under the strain. "How the hell are we supposed to do this? It's insane!"

Azar, dragging his own stone with quiet determination, didn't even glance back. His voice was calm but cold. "Try harder."

Scarface's face twisted in anger as he yanked at his chain, his efforts futile. "I didn't sign up for this!" he snapped, his voice rising. "I didn't come here to die in the middle of a damn desert!"

"You signed up for gold," Xena said sharply, her tone cutting through his panic like a blade. She turned her head just enough to glare at him, her eyes icy. "And you'll earn it. Now stop whining and pull."

Scarface opened his mouth to retort but thought better of it, biting back his frustration. He muttered something under his breath and returned to the grueling task of dragging the stone.

As the hours stretched on, the recruits fell into a grim rhythm. The sun climbed higher, its unrelenting heat turning the desert into an inferno. Xena's boots pressed deep into the scorching sand with each step, the heat seeping through the soles and biting at her skin. Her muscles screamed in protest, but she pushed forward, her mind a fortress against the pain.

Malik, walking a few paces behind her, muttered under his breath, his voice a mix of annoyance and admiration. "She doesn't stop, does she?"

Azar, who had been silent for most of the journey, finally spoke. "She won't. Not until she reaches the flag."

Scarface, dragging his stone with visible effort, shot them a glare. "Great. Let's all just follow the invincible warrior, shall we? Maybe she'll carry us, too."

"Enough," Xena barked, her voice sharp. She didn't have the patience for bickering, not now. "Focus on your own survival."

The recruits around them were in various states of struggle. Some had fallen to their knees, their stones barely moving as they panted for breath. Others pressed on with grim determination, their eyes fixed on the horizon.

But it wasn't just the heat that was wearing them down. The growing tension among the candidates was rising. This wasn't just a test of endurance; it was a test of resolve. And some were beginning to crack.

As the sun began its slow descent, casting long shadows across the desert, the first confrontation erupted. Two recruits ahead of Xena's group had stopped, their stones abandoned in the sand. One, a wiry man with a scar running down his cheek, lunged at the other, a broad-shouldered figure who looked just as worn but more defiant.

The wiry man shouted something incoherent, his desperation spilling over into violence. He tackled the larger recruit, dragging him to the ground. The scuffle kicked up a cloud of sand as the two wrestled, their chains clinking and rattling.

Xena stopped, her eyes narrowing as she watched the struggle. Malik came to a halt beside her, shading his eyes with one hand. "Well, that escalated quickly," he remarked.

Azar glanced at Xena. "Do we intervene?"

"No," Xena said firmly. "Let them tear each other apart if they want. We don't have the luxury of wasting energy."

The fight ended as abruptly as it began, with the larger recruit shoving the wiry man away and staggering back to his stone. The wiry man, defeated but alive, spat into the sand and resumed dragging his stone, his movements slower now.

"Idiots," Xena muttered, resuming her march.

When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, the temperature plummeted. The desert, once a furnace, became a cold and unwelcoming expanse. The recruits huddled together in small groups, their stones forming makeshift barriers against the wind.

Xena's group gathered around their burdens, sharing what little warmth they could. Scarface sat with his arms wrapped around his knees, his teeth chattering. "I'm telling you," he muttered, "this isn't worth it. No amount of gold is worth this."

Malik leaned back against his stone, his arms crossed. "Go wander the desert. See how far you get. If you can." he said.

Scarface glared at him but said nothing. Rafiq and Halid exchanged uneasy glances, their silence speaking volumes.

Xena sat apart from the group, her eyes scanning the horizon. The faint glow of the flag was barely visible in the distance, a cruel reminder of how far they still had to go. Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the choices that had brought her here. Because of him, she thought. Because of that damn blond elf and her cursed sense of justice.

The night was eerily quiet, save for the occasional whistle of the wind skimming over the dunes. The recruits lay scattered in small clusters, their heavy stones forming crude barriers against the desert chill. Xena sat apart from her group, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon, her thoughts distant. She hoped, prayed in her own way, that Legolas was safe—that the shadows she had seen torment him hadn't returned, at least not yet.

Just hold on, she thought, gripping the pendant at her neck. She didn't have the luxury of dwelling on him for long. Alakar's role in this nightmare loomed larger with every passing moment, and the steps she was taking to get close to Khafir were consuming time she couldn't afford.

Her mind raced with plans and possibilities when a chill ran down her spine. She sat upright, her instincts flaring. Something was wrong. The air had shifted—not the cool winds of the desert, but something darker, more menacing. Xena's hand went to the chain at her ankle as she stood, scanning the darkness.

"Stay alert," she hissed to her company. Malik and Azar snapped to attention, their tired expressions hardening. Scarface and Rafiq looked around nervously, clearly uneasy.

"What is it?" Scarface asked, his voice a whisper.

Xena's piercing gaze swept the horizon, and she signaled for silence. The faintest sound reached her ears—a guttural growl carried on the wind. Her heart sank. Orcs.

Before she could warn the others, the first attack came.

They emerged from the darkness like shadows come to life, their jagged weapons gleaming in the moonlight. The orcs moved with brutal efficiency, their snarls and war cries shattering the fragile silence of the desert night.

"Orcs!" Xena shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Get ready to fight!"

"Fight with what?" Scarface yelled, panic creeping into his voice. He gestured to the barren campsite. "We don't have anything!"

"Find something!" Xena barked, already moving.

The orcs descended in waves, their dark forms blending with the shadows. Xena darted toward the nearest stone, grabbing the chain that had been her burden and wielding it like a whip. The heavy links struck the first orc across the face, sending it reeling. She spun, the chain arcing through the air to strike another.

Malik, quick on his feet, grabbed a jagged shard of rock and plunged it into the side of an orc that had come too close. "I hope you're happy," he shouted at Xena, his voice strained as he wrestled the orc to the ground. "This is not what I signed up for!"

"Keep talking, Malik," Xena grunted, swinging the chain again.

Azar fought silently, as he always did. He wielded his chain like a flail, his movements precise and deadly. Rafiq managed to grab a piece of wood from the remains of their earlier campfire, using it as an improvised club. Scarface, however, was frozen, his eyes wide as he watched the chaos unfold.

"Scarface!" Xena shouted, her voice sharp. "Move! Now!"

The command jolted him into action, and he grabbed a chain, swinging it clumsily at an approaching orc. The blow was enough to knock the creature back, but Scarface's inexperience was obvious.

Halid, limping from his injuries in the maze, was the first to fall. An orc blindsided him, its crude blade slashing across his back. He cried out, staggering forward and dropping to his knees.

"Halid!" Rafiq shouted, abandoning his fight to rush to his companion's side.

"No!" Xena yelled, grabbing Rafiq by the arm before he could reach Halid. "You'll get yourself killed!"

Halid turned his head, blood streaming from his mouth as he met Xena's gaze. There was fear in his eyes, but also a grim acceptance. "Keep going," he rasped, his voice barely audible over the din. "Don't stop for me."

Before anyone could intervene, the orc raised its blade and struck again. Halid's body fell lifeless to the sand.

Rafiq screamed in rage, breaking free of Xena's grip and charging at the orc. He swung his makeshift club wildly, his grief fueling his attack. The orc fell under the onslaught, but Rafiq's recklessness left him exposed. Another orc lunged at him, only to be taken down by Azar's chain, which wrapped around its neck and yanked it back with a sickening snap.

"Stay focused!" Xena yelled, her voice breaking through Rafiq's haze of grief. "We survive, or we're next!"

The fight raged on, the recruits forced to rely on their wits and whatever they could find in the barren desert. Xena fought like a whirlwind, her chain becoming an extension of her will. She ducked under a swing from an orc's blade, spinning to wrap the chain around its arm and pull it off balance. A swift kick to its chest sent it sprawling into the sand.

Malik managed to hold his ground, his rock proving surprisingly effective as he struck another orc across the temple. "I really hate this job," he muttered, kicking the downed creature for good measure.

Scarface, emboldened by survival instincts, swung his chain with more confidence, though his strikes were still clumsy. Rafiq, though visibly shaken by Halid's death, fought with a ferocity that bordered on reckless, his grief driving him forward.

As the orcs' numbers began to thin, Xena seized the opportunity to rally the group. "Push them back!" she shouted. "Together!"

The recruits formed a loose circle, their chains and improvised weapons striking out in unison. The orcs, perhaps sensing their prey's growing resolve, began to falter.

Finally, as the first rays of dawn began to creep over the horizon, the remaining orcs retreated, their snarls fading into the distance. The desert was silent once more, save for the heavy breathing of the survivors. Xena stood in the center of the group, her chest heaving as she surveyed the scene. The ground was littered with the bodies of orcs and fallen recruits, their blood staining the sand.

Halid's body lay where it had fallen, his lifeless eyes staring up at the sky. Rafiq knelt beside him, his shoulders shaking as he wept silently.

Xena approached, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We'll honor him," she said quietly. "But we have to keep moving."

Rafiq didn't respond, but he nodded, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

Malik, leaning heavily against his stone, let out a weary laugh. "So, what's next? Another maze? Or maybe they'll throw us into a pit of snakes this time."

"Shut up, Malik," Xena said, though her tone lacked its usual sharpness.

Scarface sat on the ground, staring at his hands. "I can't do this," he muttered. "I'm not cut out for this."

"You're here," Azar said simply, his voice as calm as ever. "So you'll do it."

Xena turned to the horizon, where the flag still waved in the distance. The next day loomed, but for now, they had survived the night. The dawn broke over the dunes with a pale, indifferent light, casting long shadows that stretched across the sand. The desert, as unforgiving as ever, greeted the recruits with silence, broken only by the distant call of carrion birds circling the remains of the night's battle. The air was cooler in the early hours, but the promise of blistering heat hung heavy over them.

Xena knelt beside Halid's lifeless body, her jaw tight and her expression unreadable. She hadn't known him well; none of them had. Their bond was forged not by friendship but by necessity and the promise of gold. Yet, it didn't sit right with her to leave him exposed to the desert's predators.

She took the chain that had bound her to the stone and used it to dig a shallow grave in the sand. The others watched in silence, their exhaustion too profound for words. Azar joined her, his movements deliberate but respectful. Together, they covered Halid's body, the grave marked only by a single rock.

When they finished, Xena stood, brushing the sand from her hands. "We move when the sun's up," she said. "No one stops. No one falls behind. We finish this."

Malik gave a small nod, his usual smirk absent. "Yeah," he said quietly, slinging his pack over his shoulder.

Scarface looked away, avoiding the grave entirely, while Rafiq lingered for a moment, his expression clouded with guilt.A Grueling March

The morning passed in a haze of heat and monotony. The stones were heavier now, their weight amplified by the recruits' fatigue. Each step sank deeper into the sand, the loose grains shifting treacherously beneath their boots.

Xena pulled her stone with measured determination, her focus unwavering. She didn't speak, her energy reserved entirely for the grueling task at hand. Malik walked a few paces behind her, his own stone dragging reluctantly across the dunes.

"Quiet day," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

No one responded.

Rafiq stumbled, catching himself just before falling, and let out a frustrated sigh. Scarface glanced at him but said nothing, his own movements sluggish and labored. Azar, ever silent, kept pace with Xena, his expression as stoic as the desert itself.

The flag in the distance seemed no closer than it had the day before. Its faint silhouette wavered in the heat haze, an elusive promise of an end to this torment.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the desert cooled rapidly, the sand shedding its heat and turning cold beneath their feet. The recruits gathered their stones into a loose circle, forming a makeshift barrier against the elements.

Xena sat with her back against her stone, her head tilted back as she gazed at the stars. The silence of the group was heavy, the weight of the day's march pressing down on them like a physical force.

Malik broke the quiet, his voice low. "Anyone else feel like they've been walking in circles?"

"Feels like it," Scarface mumbled, his tone bitter.

Xena didn't answer, her gaze fixed on the sky. She knew better. The flag was real, but the trials were designed to wear them down—to break them before they could reach it.

Rafiq shifted uncomfortably, wincing as he adjusted the bandages on his arm. "We'll make it," he said, though his voice lacked conviction.

Azar nodded once, his silence speaking louder than words.

"Rest while you can," Xena finally said, her voice quiet but firm. "We move again at first light."

No one argued. They settled into an uneasy sleep, their bodies aching and their minds restless. The desert, with its endless expanse and hidden dangers, seemed to watch them, indifferent to their struggle.

The dawn brought little relief. The air was cold but carried the promise of another scorching day. Xena rose first, her movements slow but deliberate. She tightened the bindings around her boots, adjusting them to shield her feet from the heat of the sand.

Malik groaned as he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. "Morning already?" he muttered. "Feels like I just closed my eyes."

"You probably snored through the whole night," Scarface grumbled, stretching his sore legs.

"Enough," Xena said, cutting off any further complaints. "We've wasted enough time."

They resumed their march, the stones dragging behind them like anchors. The group moved in near silence, their focus entirely on placing one foot in front of the other. The flag was still distant, but the faint glimmer of hope it offered was enough to keep them going. Their pace slowed, their movements heavy with exhaustion. The desert offered no mercy, and neither did the trials.

As the sun began to set once more, Xena allowed herself a moment to breathe, her gaze sweeping the horizon. They were closer now, but the hardest part was yet to come.

The desert stretched endlessly ahead, but the flag was finally visible, its crimson fabric rippling faintly in the dry wind. It stood like a taunting promise at the end of their torment, just out of reach. The recruits moved sluggishly, their bodies battered and their spirits frayed.

Xena dragged her stone with dogged determination, her every step a battle against the searing pain in her legs. The chain around her ankle had worn the skin raw, and every pull sent a fresh jolt of pain up her body. She gritted her teeth, refusing to give in.

Behind her, Malik trudged along, his face pale and drenched in sweat. "If I die out here," he muttered, his voice hoarse, "bury me with something nice. Maybe a decent meal for a change."

Scarface groaned, barely managing to keep pace. "You're not dying. If anyone's dying, it's me. This is hell. Actual hell."

"Keep moving," Xena said sharply, her voice firm despite her exhaustion. "We're almost there."

As the flag grew closer, the tension among the recruits became unbearable. The heat, the thirst, and the relentless weight of the stones had eroded what little camaraderie existed. Arguments broke out, voices rising above the howling wind. One man accused another of trying to sabotage his chain, and their shouts quickly escalated into violence.

"You're slowing us down!" one recruit yelled, shoving another to the ground.

"I'll kill you first!" came the snarled reply.

The clash ended quickly as both men collapsed from exhaustion, their bodies lifeless in the bloodstained sand. Around them, others were succumbing to the same fate. Some fainted mid-step, their bodies crumpling into the dunes, while others simply gave up, lying down and letting the desert take them.

Xena kept her focus on the flag, her resolve hardening with every step. She refused to look back, refused to acknowledge the chaos. The weight of the chain was unbearable, her ankle a throbbing mess, but she pushed forward, her eyes locked on her goal.

When Xena was mere yards from the flag, a voice called out behind her. "Not so fast!"

She turned just in time to see a tall, muscular man from another team lunging toward her. His face was twisted in desperation, his chain dragging behind him. He reached for her arm, trying to pull her back. Xena reacted instinctively, twisting out of his grip and yanking her chain with all her strength. The sudden force caused him to stumble, and his stone dragged him down into the sand.

"Get out of my way," she growled, her voice low and fierce.

The man snarled but lacked the strength to retaliate. Xena turned and surged forward, her hand reaching for the base of the flag. Her fingers closed around the pole just as her knees buckled beneath her, sending her sprawling to the ground. But she had it. She had reached the flag first.

One by one, the survivors stumbled to the flag, their movements slow and broken. Malik arrived next, collapsing to his knees beside Xena. Azar followed, his stoic expression unchanged despite his clear exhaustion. Scarface and Rafiq were among the last of their group to make it, their faces pale and streaked with dirt and sweat. Rhazak appeared suddenly, his crimson scarf whipping in the wind. He surveyed the scene with a cold, calculating gaze, his expression betraying no emotion.

"It's done," he announced, his voice loud and impassive. "You've passed."

No praise. No acknowledgment of their suffering. Just a simple declaration that they had survived. The guards moved in, unlocking the chains from their ankles. The heavy stones were left where they had fallen, markers of the grueling trial they had endured.

"Take them back to the tents," Rhazak ordered.

The recruits were herded back to the camp, their steps dragging as they leaned on one another for support. Xena's legs trembled with every step, her body screaming for rest, but she refused to falter. When they reached the tents, bowls of water were thrust into their hands. Xena downed hers in one go, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat but doing little to ease her overall exhaustion.

Malik dropped onto his bedding with a groan, his arms sprawled out at his sides. "This is the part where I die, right? Just let me die."

Scarface flopped down nearby, his face pressed into the coarse fabric of the bedding. "I don't even care if I smell like sweat and blood. I'm not moving until someone drags me out."

Azar, ever composed, sat cross-legged on his bedding, methodically cleaning the wounds on his hands. Rafiq was silent, his head bowed as he cradled his water bowl.

Xena didn't bother to clean herself. She lay down, her body sinking into the bedding, her muscles too tired to protest. Blood and sand clung to her skin, but she didn't care.

Her eyes drifted to the ceiling of the tent, her thoughts a tangled mess of exhaustion and determination. The trial was over, but the real challenge—the reason she was here—was still ahead.

As sleep claimed her, her last thought was of the flag, the weight of the chain, and the unseen battle still to come.

((Upcoming Chapter Ninety-One))

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