The Price of Pride

76: A Midnight Consultation

ActVII

Friends of New/Old

Chapter 76: A Midnight Consultation

Imladris, October 15th - 16th 3018 T.A

The night was quiet in Rivendell, the stillness broken only by the gentle murmur of the waterfalls cascading nearby, silvered in the light of a waning moon. Xena moved swiftly down the polished stone corridors, her mind set and her resolve unwavering. Legolas had reluctantly agreed, but she knew he'd give only the briefest version of what he'd endured. She would go to Elrond tonight—no more waiting. Each night drained more of his strength, and she would not let him face another in silence.

The hallway was hushed and empty at this hour, and the air carried the cool crispness of autumn. She reached Elrond's private study, the light from within casting a soft glow beneath the door. She knocked lightly, then pushed it open when she heard a quiet acknowledgment from within.

Inside, Lord Elrond sat by a low fire, his expression thoughtful. But he was not alone. To her surprise, the figure beside him was none other than Gandalf the Grey. The wizard turned as she entered, his sharp eyes assessing her with quiet curiosity, and a faint smile tugged at his lips beneath his bushy, white beard.

"Xena," Elrond greeted her, a glimmer of surprise flickering in his gaze. "It's rather late—has something happened?"

Xena took a breath, steadying herself. She met Elrond's gaze firmly, then glanced to Gandalf, who gave her an encouraging nod. She'd come here for answers, and she wouldn't waver.

"Yes, something has happened," she said. "It's about Legolas."

Elrond's face softened with immediate understanding, though there was also a hint of weariness. "I had my suspicions," he murmured. "But I had hoped he would come to me himself."

"He agreed to speak to you tomorrow," she replied, "but I couldn't wait. What he's dealing with... it's more than just old memories."

Gandalf's eyes narrowed with keen interest, and he leaned forward, tapping the tip of his staff lightly against the floor. "Go on," he said gently, his voice encouraging. "Tell us everything."

He deduced that this must be the human Elrond had mentioned—the one who had arrived with Legolas. Gandalf had picked up bits and pieces about her from Elrond and the twins, and although they had never met, there was a sense that they each recognized one another intuitively.

Xena recounted what she'd observed: the change in Legolas's demeanor, his increasing weariness, and the way he seemed to be fading as if something was draining his very life force. She explained the nights she'd spent in his room, watching as he was tormented by nightmares more vivid, more tangible, than anything she'd seen before. And, finally, she described the shadowed presence that lingered, retreating only when she drew near.

Elrond listened intently, his face growing grave. Gandalf remained silent, his eyes fixed on the fire as if he were reading something in its flickering depths.

When she finished, a tense silence settled over the room. Elrond clasped his hands, the faintest crease of worry appearing on his brow. "This is indeed troubling," he said quietly. "Legolas has long carried his mother's death as a burden, and though he hides it well, I've always known his guilt remains. Yet what you describe goes beyond mere grief or guilt. Something darker is at work here."