Edoras, 3019 TA, March 5
In the aftermath of the Battle of Helm's Deep, there lingered a profound sense of unity and camaraderie among those who had fought side by side. The experience of standing together, of sharing the burden of battle, had created an ineffable bond among the warriors. It was a reminder of their shared humanity, a brief respite from the solitude that often accompanies individual existence. In the act of fighting together, they had felt a kinship, a oneness that transcended the fear and chaos of war.
The people of Rohan, having endured the terror of the night, now found solace in survival. With hurried steps and hearts filled with relief, they sought out their families and homes. There was a scramble of activity as they began the process of healing and rebuilding. The men of Rohan, along with King Théoden and the members of the company, were part of this flurry, each contributing in their own way to the restoration of order and peace.
A collective desire to cleanse themselves of the night's grim events prevailed. They sought to wash away the grime and bloodstains, a symbolic act of shedding the horrors they had endured. Rest, too, was essential—a deep, restorative sleep that would allow them to recover from the physical and emotional toll of the battle.
In the aftermath of the fierce battle at Helm's Deep, Haldir of Lothlórien, though gravely wounded, was tended to with great care. His injuries, while serious, were not beyond healing, and soon he was able to journey back to Lothlórien with the surviving members of his Elven company. Lothlórien itself had been facing assaults, and as the Marchwarden, his presence there was urgently needed. Before his departure, Haldir sought out Xena. He took a moment to express his gratitude for her bravery and companionship. Reminding her of the welcome she always had in Lothlórien, he embraced her in a heartfelt farewell, a gesture that spoke of the respect and bond they had formed. With this, he embarked on his return to the Golden Wood.
This exchange did not go unnoticed by Legolas, who observed the interaction with a hint of annoyance, though he chose not to comment. A turmoil of unfamiliar thoughts and feelings stirred within him, his heart increasingly preoccupied with Xena and her well-being.
Following Haldir's departure, Xena had an opportunity to speak with Gandalf. She was visibly relieved to find the wizard alive and well. Gandalf confirmed that he had renewed the spells to contain her curse and advised caution in her interactions with Legolas, expressing uncertainty about the duration of the spell's effectiveness.
The company's next destination was Edoras, the seat of King Théoden of Rohan. There, they would celebrate their hard-won victory at Helm's Deep. In the Golden Halls of Edoras, amidst the revelry and toasts to the fallen, Théoden, with the Cup of Kings in hand, addressed his people. Éowyn, his niece, stood by his side as he honored the heroes who had bravely defended the gates of Helm's Deep and, in doing so, saved their realm.
The hall was alive with the sound of celebration, the clinking of cups, and tales of valor. Everyone, from Aragorn to the humblest of Rohirrim, joined in commemorating the defeat of Saruman's forces. Amidst this joyous atmosphere, there lingered a sense of solemn remembrance for those lost in the battle, a reminder of the high cost of their victory and the challenges that still lay ahead in the fight against the darkness that threatened Middle-earth.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting its final glow over the landscape, Xena found herself assigned to a spacious chamber in Edoras. To her surprise, she discovered a hidden room behind a large curtain that revealed a private bathing area. This natural haven, complete with warm, inviting water, seemed almost out of place amidst the recent turmoil and bloodshed.
Submerging herself in the bath, Xena felt the warm water soothing her tired muscles and washing away the grime of battle. The fragrance of the bath provided a much-needed respite, allowing her to breathe deeply and find a moment of peace. She lingered in the water, her mind replaying the events of the past few days.
Throughout the battle, there had been moments when victory against the Uruk-hai seemed uncertain, yet they had triumphed. Now, as a semblance of normalcy returned, she couldn't help but think about the next looming threat. Even Legolas and Gimli, despite their newfound camaraderie, continued their playful competition, each vying to outdo the other in battle. Xena found their rivalry almost childlike, especially coming from Legolas, an elf of many centuries.
Admittedly, she preferred seeing Legolas this way – spirited, engaged in friendly rivalry with Gimli, temporarily free from the burdens he carried. She realized with a certain clarity that she harbored a deep concern for her friends, particularly for Legolas. His struggles with darkness and curses seemed unjust, and she wished no further harm upon him.
As she lingered in the bath, her thoughts inevitably drifted back to Legolas. She reflected on his conduct during the battle, having witnessed his prowess in combat firsthand. His skill with the bow was unmatched, his mastery of his blades was remarkable. In the heat of battle, his courage shone through, a testament to his strength as a warrior. This realization brought a sense of admiration and perhaps something deeper, a connection forged in the fires of battle and the shared experiences of their journey.
In the aftermath of Helm's Deep, Xena found herself reflecting on the nature of courage and the dynamics of the battlefield. She had observed how, amidst the chaos of war, she and Legolas had managed to synchronize their attacks, creating a harmonious and deadly dance of blades and arrows. Their partnership in battle transcended the differences between them, the fact that Legolas was an Elf – and at times a rather haughty one – becoming irrelevant in the face of their combined prowess.
Xena's thoughts also turned to the other skilled warriors she had fought alongside. Aragorn, with his kingly bearing and unwavering resolve; Gimli, whose strength and tenacity belied his stature; and Éomer, whose fierce loyalty to Rohan was unmistakable. Each had left an impression on her, their bravery and skill in combat undeniable.
Her musings then drifted to Éowyn, a woman whose spirit and desire to fight resonated with Xena. Éowyn, much like Gabrielle, held a fire within her that longed for the chance to prove itself on the battlefield. However, unlike Gabrielle, who would likely defy orders to join the fight, Éowyn adhered to the commands she was given, a testament to her duty to Rohan.
After the battle, Xena had an opportunity to speak with Éowyn. It was clear that Éowyn was frustrated at having been sent away with the women and children, her warrior's heart yearning to participate in the defense of her people. In their conversation, Xena recognized a kindred spirit in Éowyn. They found common ground in their shared experiences, and Xena saw in Éowyn a woman navigating her own path through darkness and adversity, especially during the time when King Théoden, her uncle, was under Saruman's curse.
Éowyn's brother, Éomer, had expressed the traditional view that women did not belong on the battlefield. Xena, out of respect for Éowyn, chose not to challenge this notion directly, though she felt confident she could easily prove him wrong. However, she knew that such actions might complicate matters with the King, and so she held her peace.
These reflections gave Xena a deeper understanding of the complexities and nuances of the people she had come to know in this land. Each had their own battles, their own inner struggles, and their own unique strengths, all of which contributed to the rich tapestry of their shared experiences in Middle-earth.
Resolved to join the others, Xena reluctantly donned the long gown provided for her. She had often found the practice of wearing gowns in Middle-earth's towns somewhat cumbersome, yet she had to admit that this particular gown was exceptionally crafted. The fabric was of exquisite quality, adorned with intricate golden patterns that shimmered subtly in the light. The gown, though elegant, felt heavy on her, a stark contrast to her usual armor and battle attire.
The dress was a blush color, full-sleeved, and flowed gracefully around her. Its golden embroidery caught the light, creating a dance of shadows and highlights across the fabric. Despite its finery, Xena couldn't shake off a sense of being out of her element, accustomed as she was to the practicality of warrior's gear.
Her hair, usually tied back or braided for battle, now hung straight down, its rich brown hues reminiscent of the harmonious voices of a cathedral choir. Her complexion, paler than usual from the strain of battle, bore the marks of recent skirmishes – a testament to her bravery and resilience. Yet, despite these battle scars, her appearance was striking, akin to the finest Mirkwood wine in its depth and allure.
Closing the door behind her, Xena made her way into the Golden Hall of Meduseld. The hall was filled with the sounds of both mourning and celebration, reflecting the complex emotions of a victory tinged with loss.
Meanwhile, Legolas sat alone in his chamber, lost in thought. Dressed in his formal grey tunic, he had laid aside his weapons, a rare moment of vulnerability for the Elven warrior. His fists clenched at his sides, he stared ahead, seemingly oblivious to the sounds of revelry and sorrow echoing from the Golden Hall. The events of the day had taken their toll, leaving him introspective and distant. Memories of the battle flashed vividly in his mind, each one eliciting a deep, involuntary breath, as he grappled with the weight of their recent experiences and the uncertain path that lay ahead.
Gimli, ever the observant friend, had noticed a change in Legolas since their arrival in Edoras. The Elf seemed distant, his thoughts scattered and his usual sharp focus dulled. Though Gimli made no direct comment on this shift, he was keenly aware of it. In an effort to lift Legolas's spirits, Gimli decided to engage his friend in a drinking game, a lighthearted distraction from the weight of recent events.
Xena, upon entering the Golden Halls of Meduseld, was immediately struck by the lively atmosphere. The Rohirrim, led by Éomer, were deep in conversation, while nearby, Gimli and Legolas were engaged in their drinking contest. Merry and Pippin, much like they would in the Shire, were the life of the party – dancing, singing, and reveling in the joy of their hard-won victory. At the other end of the hall, Gandalf was absorbed in a serious discussion with Aragorn.
Gimli, with a touch of pride in his voice, teased Legolas. "What did I say? He can't hold his liquor!" he declared, just before succumbing to the effects of the alcohol himself and passing out.
Legolas, unfazed and slightly amused, declared his victory in the game with a confident "Game over," allowing himself a rare smirk.
At that moment, Xena took Gimli's place at the table, her presence altering the atmosphere. Dressed in her long, earth-toned gown, with her hair hanging loose, she presented a stark contrast to her usual warrior attire. Though the gown lacked the ethereal quality of those from Lothlórien, it had a grounded, natural charm.
"The game isn't over, Elf!" she announced boldly, drawing the attention of those around her. She picked up a drink and took a sip, waiting for Legolas's response.
"Unfair!" Legolas protested playfully. "I have won!"
Xena downed her drink in one go and slammed the mug on the table, leaning in closer to Legolas. "It doesn't count. You're an Elf! Did the previous drinks even affect you?"
Legolas met her gaze, a hint of playfulness in his eyes. "They did! I felt a pinch... a tingle," he claimed, maintaining the lighthearted banter.
In this moment of levity, amidst the celebration and mourning of Edoras, Xena, and Legolas found a brief respite from the solemnity of their recent experiences. Their interaction, filled with jest and camaraderie, reflected the bond they had formed, a connection forged in the trials of battle and the shared journey through Middle-earth.
In the midst of the lively atmosphere of the Golden Halls, Xena pointed accusatorily at the unconscious Gimli. "A tingle! A dwarf is passed out on the ground! Do you get what I mean? The game is on! No one won, yet!"
Éomer, unable to resist joining in the fun, approached them with a hearty laugh and an armful of drinks. "You heard the lady!" he exclaimed, his amusement clear. Both he and his men were keen to witness this unusual contest – first between a dwarf and an elf, and now between a human woman and an elf. The scene was undoubtedly entertaining.
Legolas, accepting the challenge, quickly grabbed a new mug and began to drink. Mug after mug was emptied as the competition intensified. What had started as a light-hearted game soon took on a more serious edge. The two competitors, elf and human, locked eyes, neither willing to yield. The onlookers watched in fascination as Xena and Legolas continued to match each other drink for drink.
"If it was wine from the Woodland realm, it would be a little more effective," Legolas quipped, catching Xena's attention.
Xena, her vision blurring slightly, blinked at Legolas and felt the room spin. With a final effort, she took one last sip and then her head hit the table with a thud. Legolas, looking down at her, allowed himself a triumphant smirk. "Now, it's game over!"
Éomer, seizing the moment, declared jubilantly, "We have a winner!" The men around erupted into cheers and applause.
The crowd gradually dispersed to continue their celebrations, with Éomer and his men moving to another table for their own drinking game. Legolas, showing a touch of concern, helped position Gimli more comfortably in a chair. He then sat down, surveying the scene – Gimli, still inebriated and cuddling a chair, and Xena, slumped over the table, muttering in her half-conscious state.
"The game is still..." Xena's voice trailed off as she weakly raised her arm, "It.. is.. not... finished!"
Legolas, unable to suppress a smirk, leaned closer and whispered to her, "It is already done! I won!"
Gimli, coming to his senses, opened one eye and then the other, realizing his undignified position. He adjusted himself, resting his back against the chair. His gaze shifted to Legolas, who was still sitting there, his attention fixed on Xena. Despite her protestations and claims of victory, she remained sprawled on the table, the fatigue of the day's events finally taking its toll.
"What did you do to the lass?" Gimli asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.
Legolas watched Gimli with a mixture of amusement and concern. "She's drunk and still insists she won!" he remarked, referring to Xena.
Gimli, finding humor in the situation, chuckled. "Take good care of her, lad! I need to rest," he advised, patting Legolas on the shoulder before stumbling towards his own bed-chamber to sleep off the effects of the drink.
The hall gradually emptied, leaving Legolas and the slumbering Xena at the table. Legolas found himself captivated by her peaceful visage, unable to draw his gaze away. A pang of something unexpected stirred within him – a sense of concern, perhaps even a hint of affection, for the human warrior.
His thoughts wandered to the recent interaction with Haldir, sparking a realization that Xena could easily capture the interest of others. Tonight, having consumed more ale than usual, Legolas felt his usual reserve slip slightly. He was not drunk, Elves seldom were, but the ale made him more susceptible to unguarded thoughts and feelings.
Struggling to anchor himself to the present, Legolas fought against the tide of his wandering mind. He couldn't afford to indulge in such distractions, not when so much hung in the balance. Yet as he shook his head, trying to clear these thoughts, he was met with Xena's piercing blue eyes, now wide awake and looking at him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.
"That's the funny thing about people. Just when you think you've got them figured out, they show a completely different side. How long have you been staring like a pervert?" Xena teased, propping herself up and fixing her gaze on Legolas.
Caught off guard and slightly embarrassed, Legolas hastily replied, "I was thinking," though his defense sounded weak even to his own ears.
Xena, with a knowing grin, tilted her head playfully. "You were not," she countered. She reflected on the strength of the ale they had been drinking, grateful it was not as potent as the famed wine of Mirkwood – a beverage she had yet to sample but was curious about. The conversation, light-hearted yet laced with an undercurrent of something deeper, marked a moment of connection between the two warriors, a moment that hinted at a growing bond beyond the battlefield.
In the dwindling hours of the night, as the Golden Hall of Edoras emptied, Legolas remained seated at the table, his gaze lingering on Xena, who had once again rested her head on the table. Her hair spilled over the velvet of her dress, creating an image of tranquil repose. They had not spoken for a while, but Legolas continued to observe her in thoughtful silence.
Éowyn, also preparing to retire, approached them with a look of concern. "Is she well?" she inquired, reaching out to gently assist Xena.
Legolas looked up, his expression a mix of concern and amusement. "The lady had a little too much to drink, Lady Éowyn," he replied, finishing the last of his ale.
Éowyn, surprised yet compassionate, offered her support to Xena. "I will help her to her chamber," she said kindly, her voice soft.
However, Legolas, in a gesture uncharacteristic of his usual reserve, stood and gently scooped Xena into his arms, supporting her as she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck. "She is my responsibility, Lady Éowyn," he stated firmly, giving Éowyn a respectful nod before carrying Xena away.
Éowyn watched them leave, a look of perplexity crossing her features at this unexpected display of care from the Elf.
As they moved through the corridors towards Legolas' room, Xena clung to him, her head resting on his shoulder. Legolas glanced back at her, a hint of concern in his eyes. The usually stoic Elf seemed momentarily unsure, his usual grace giving way to a more human vulnerability.
Upon reaching his room, Legolas attempted to help Xena onto the bed, but she tightened her grip, unwilling to let go. It was a rare moment of closeness for Xena, a combination of the lingering effects of the ale, the unique scent of the Elf, and her own long-standing isolation. In this instance, she found comfort in the warmth of another, holding onto Legolas with an intensity that betrayed her usual self-reliance.
For both Legolas and Xena, this moment transcended their usual roles as warriors and companions in arms. It hinted at a deeper connection, an unspoken understanding that had grown between them through their shared trials and experiences. In the quiet of the night, away from the battlefield and the eyes of others, they found a shared solitude, a rare instance of vulnerability and comfort in each other's presence.
Legolas, struggling with the unfamiliar weight of intoxication, attempted to gently disengage Xena's firm grip around his neck. "Xena, you need to let go," he whispered, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and confusion. He gently tried to pry her arms loose. "Xena!" he called softly once more, his tone more insistent.
Xena's eyes fluttered open slowly, a look of defiant vulnerability in them. "I don't want to," she declared, her voice steady despite the effects of the ale. It was a rare moment of openness for her, a letting down of the walls she usually kept so meticulously intact. "Just a little longer, like this."
"Xena, please," Legolas pleaded again, his usual composure wavering slightly under the influence of the drink. Though not drunk, the ale had certainly clouded his judgement. With a gentle but firm motion, he managed to break her embrace and turned her to face him, his arms still encircling her waist to steady her.
Their eyes locked, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Xena's fingers traced the fabric of his silver shirt softly, her touch tentative yet longing.
"I'm not trying to be difficult. I'm genuinely concerned," Legolas said with a seriousness that belied his earlier lightheartedness.
"Worried?" Xena's eyes widened, a mix of amusement and challenge in her gaze. "Haven't I told you, I have many skills?" she retorted, her stance still close, her eyes unyielding in their focus on him.
"What am I to do with you?" Legolas murmured, his expression softening as he looked at her. His usual resolve seemed to falter under the intensity of the moment.
Xena, her fingers now gripping his shirt more firmly, tilted her head slightly, her eyes still locked on his. Her smile was enigmatic, inviting yet daring. "What can you do, Elf?"
In that moment, something within Legolas shifted, a feeling he couldn't quite name but could no longer ignore. His touch, which had been so casual and brotherly in the past, now lingered with a different intent. The rest of the world blurred into insignificance, leaving only her presence, her nearness. He was acutely aware of the quickening of his heart, a sensation both thrilling and terrifying. He knew he should pull away, and maintain the boundaries of their friendship, but the allure of this moment, the unspoken tension between them, held him captive. She was like a dream he dared not disturb, a temptation he wasn't sure he wanted to resist.
As the quiet of the night enveloped them, Legolas found himself in a turmoil of conflicting thoughts and emotions. He gently cradled the back of Xena's head with his right hand, drawing her closer with each hesitant breath. His mind was a whirlwind of contradictions: the nobility of his Elven heritage clashing with the raw, human emotions stirred by Xena's proximity. The fact that she was human, cursed, and a companion in arms only added layers to his internal struggle. 'I should not,' he thought, 'but yet I cannot resist.'
Then, in a moment of abandon, Legolas closed the gap between them, his lips meeting hers in a tentative, questioning kiss. He waited for her response, for any sign that this was not just a one-sided yearning.
Xena, equally caught in the moment, found herself responding without hesitation. There were no doubts, no second thoughts, only the rightness of the moment. She pressed back against him, her lips meeting his with a matching intensity. If this was to ignite a fire that would consume them both, then so be it.
Legolas felt her response, a silent affirmation of this unexpected connection. He deepened the kiss, a gentle exploration that slowly grew in passion. His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer as their kiss ignited into something more intense, more real. Xena's arms wound around his neck, her own response growing bolder.
Eventually, they broke apart, each catching their breath, their faces a mere breath apart. Legolas smiled a rare, genuine expression that spoke of contentment and a newfound sense of closeness. Xena returned the smile, her gaze locked onto his, unable to look away, overwhelmed by the warmth and rightness of the moment.
Gently, Legolas guided her to the bed, laying down and drawing her with him. He held her close, wrapping his arms around her protectively, pulling the covers over them. In the safety of each other's embrace, they closed their eyes, succumbing to a peaceful, deep sleep. The complexities of their situation, and the worries of the future, all were forgotten in the comfort of the present.
"Good night," whispered Legolas softly, as they drifted off to sleep, entwined in a quiet, shared solace, a world away from the battles and burdens that awaited them come morning.
((Upcoming Chapter Sixty-Four))
Thank you for taking the time to read this! Feel free to Review - Follow - Favorite!