The Price of Pride

26: A Foe, a Rival, or a Friend?

ActIII

Frenemies

Chapter 26: A Foe, a Rival or a Friend?

Outskirts of Lothlórien, July 31st 3018 T.A.

The outskirts of Lothlórien were a sanctuary, protected not only by the Lady of Light but also by Nenya, the Ring of Adamant, one of the three Rings of Power given to the Elves of Middle-earth in the Second Age. The Nazgûl dared not step into these sacred grounds. Though they lingered at the borders for some time, their call to find the One Ring eventually took precedence over the killing of an Elven prince.

As the company rode a few yards into the forest, they quickly realized they were in a safe place. Elros gazed around at the majestic mallorn-trees and spoke in a low tone, "Lothlórien." The mere mention of the name brought a palpable sense of relief to the group.

Legolas brought his horse to a halt in front of a grand mallorn-tree, and Xena's horse, following closely, paused beside them. He dismounted with the grace inherent to his kind and gently lifted Xena from her saddle, placing her carefully on the ground. His right hand, numb from pressing against her wound, revealed that most of the bleeding had stopped, though the seriousness of the injury was evident.

His concern deepened as he examined the wound, recognizing it as the work of a Nazgûl blade. He feared it was a Morgul-knife, a weapon designed to leave a shard in the victim's body, eventually turning them into a wraith if not treated in time. Kneeling beside Xena, he noticed the pallor spreading across her face and neck, her blood still oozing from the cut. It was as if the very essence of life was being drained from her.

The blood on his palm was still warm, staining his wrist and tunic. He looked at her eyes, which were open but unfocused. He wanted to reassure her, to offer comforting lies, but he knew she would see through them. Instead, he spoke the truth, his voice cracking with emotion.

"It's not the cut that worries me, Xena," he whispered. "It's that it was caused by a Morgul-blade. The purpose of the knife is to break off in the wound, leaving a shard in the victim's body. The remaining blade soon turns to dust, and the shard works its way to the heart. If it stays too long, you will become a wraith. We've spent too long running from the Nazgûl. I'm afraid... I'm afraid we may not be able to save you."

Xena struggled to focus on his words. She heard him, but his voice seemed distant, as if through a thick fog. The two days of fleeing had drained her, and the darkness within her grew stronger. It was a different kind of darkness, one that reminded her of the malevolence they faced in Mirkwood. Yet, she fought against it, for fighting was what she did best.

Xena managed to grasp Legolas's bloody hand, her grip weak but determined. Her answer was short but prideful and smart, causing Legolas to smirk despite the critical moment. "Still think I'm reckless, elf?" she whispered, her voice laced with defiance.

Legolas gently placed his bloodstained finger on her lips to hush her. "We know what to do," he assured her softly.

After that, they sprang into action. Legolas carefully turned her onto her side so they could work on her right side. Thalion brought the pack with the healing herbs and gear they carried for deadly wounds. Mírdan brought blankets to make her comfortable.

Legolas ripped her shirt from the bottom up, exposing the large cut. The bleeding had mostly stopped, and it was not infected, but it was clear the wound was caused by a Morgul-blade. Elros was already searching through the pack for Athelas, needing to delay the dust from spreading further into her body.