Disclaimers: I don't own any characters or settings from Lord of the Rings.

Act VI

Chapter 51: A Gown, A Glance, A New Dawn

The festivities were drawing to a close, the grand hall slowly emptying as guests made their way to their quarters. Aragorn and Arwen, after mingling and sharing their joy with everyone, finally retired to their chambers, leaving the hall with their hands clasped together, their faces glowing with happiness.

Elrond sat with the twins, a proud father basking in the achievements of his children. Tonight was not just Arwen's night; it was also a night of pride for Arien. She had grown, found her place, and reconnected with her family. Arien felt the warmth of this connection, a bond that had strengthened through trials and triumphs.

As the night wore on, Arien joined her father, sitting beside him with a contented sigh. They spoke quietly, the conversation flowing easily between them. Arien confided in Elrond that while she was still uncertain about what her future held, she felt a strong inclination to base herself in Gondor. Her friends and sister were here, and this place had become a significant part of her life. However, she assured him that Rivendell would always be a home she would return to, a place to reconnect with her family.

Elrond nodded, his eyes reflecting a deep understanding. "All in good time, my daughter," he said softly, placing a comforting hand on hers.

After their conversation, Arien noticed Legolas making his way out of the hall, taking a familiar route towards the gardens. She finished her wine, bid her father goodnight, and, with a mischievous glint in her eye, hurried after him. The wine had loosened her inhibitions, and the thought of finally taking her revenge on Legolas for the month of cleaning stables was too enticing to resist.

Outside, the night was cool and quiet. The stars glittered above, casting a serene light over the gardens. Arien spotted Legolas walking leisurely, his silver hair catching the moonlight. She quickened her pace, her steps light and purposeful.

"Prince Legolas," she called, her voice carrying a playful tone.

Legolas turned, his expression one of mild surprise and amusement. "Lady Arien," he replied, his voice as formal and melodic as ever. "What brings you out here at this hour?"

Arien approached him, a sly smile on her lips. "Just enjoying the night air," she said, her tone light. "And perhaps... seeking a bit of payback."

Legolas raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Payback, you say? And what might you have in mind?"

Arien took a step closer, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, nothing too harsh," she assured him. "Just a small token of my appreciation for all those days of cleaning stables."

Legolas chuckled softly. "If it is revenge you seek, Lady Arien, I must warn you—I am not easily bested."

"We shall see about that," Arien said, her voice filled with playful determination.

They stood there for a moment, the tension between them palpable but light-hearted. The night seemed to hold its breath, the garden around them a silent witness to their exchange.

"Very well," Legolas said finally, his tone teasing. "Do your worst, Lady Arien. I am ready."

Arien laughed, a sound full of promise and delight. "Oh, I intend to, Prince Legolas. I intend to."

And with that, they walked further into the gardens, their laughter mingling with the night air, the promise of playful revenge sparking between them. The wedding celebrations may have been winding down, but for Arien and Legolas, the night was just beginning.

They walked slowly towards the open view where the city walls stood, a place they had frequented before. Arien hadn't yet tried anything, unsure of how exactly to take her revenge. She needed something that would make Legolas awkwardly uncomfortable, a challenge given his unflappable demeanor. As they stood in silence, Arien found herself absentmindedly fiddling with the ribbons and straps of her dress, contemplating the lengthy process of removing them later that night.

Legolas, noticing her preoccupation, recalled how she had struggled to tie her gown earlier. It was a simple task for most maidens, yet Arien, with her peculiar background, found it difficult. She was indeed an unusual elven maiden, one who did not even speak their language fluently.

"Lady Arien," Legolas began, his voice tinged with curiosity, "I must ask—how is it that an elf such as yourself finds difficulty in tasks that come naturally to others? You are... disconnected from your elven nature."

Arien glanced at him, unembarrassed, and nodded. "I don't know many things," she admitted. "I am indeed disconnected."

Intrigued, Legolas sat on the wall, gesturing for her to join him. "Would you care to share your story?" he asked. "You once teased that I do not like stories, but I assure you, all elves cherish tales and songs."

Arien smiled at his correction and agreed to tell him. She settled beside him, her mood playful but her eyes serious. "Brace yourself, Prince Legolas. My story is... bizarre."

Legolas promised to listen, crossing his legs and focusing his attention on her.

Arien began her tale, recounting how she was born in Rivendell, though omitting the identity of her parents. She spoke of an incident involving her mother, one that led her father to believe she would be overcome with grief and sail to the Undying Lands. In a desperate attempt to save her, her father sent her away through magical means, but it was not a success. Her body remained, but her soul was transported to another realm, swapping places with another soul.

She was too young to remember the switch clearly, and thus, her life in the other world became her reality. She always felt a disconnect with her body, but thought little of it. After forty years in that realm, the other soul desired to return, and they swapped back. She found it impossible to cope with the reality she faced here, a world that felt alien despite being her birthplace.

For centuries, her family tried to help her adjust, moving between Rivendell and Lothlórien, but she never truly adapted. It was only when she found solace in her sword that Elenion was born. The twins and Aragorn were kind enough to teach her and accept her into their company. However, she remained largely disconnected from her surroundings.

Legolas listened intently. At first, he thought she might be teasing him, but as her story unfolded, he began to believe her. It explained her awkward behavior, and her way of speaking—traits that made sense if she came from another world, a modern one.

"This explains much, Lady Arien," Legolas said thoughtfully. "Your mannerisms, your speech... they align with what you have shared."

Arien nodded, relieved that he believed her. They continued to talk, Legolas asking questions about her experiences in the other realm and how she managed to navigate life in Middle-earth. The conversation flowed easily, a rare moment of understanding and connection between them.

As they talked, the night deepened around them, the city of Minas Tirith quieting into a peaceful slumber. The tension between them seemed to dissolve, replaced by a newfound camaraderie. For a while, they simply enjoyed each other's company, the stars above witnessing the beginning of what might become a deeper friendship.

They had talked for a while, and Arien was surprisingly well-behaved. However, it was getting late, and she wished she could get out of her elaborate dress. She turned to Legolas without much thought and asked him to help her.

The request was so sudden that it made Legolas freeze for a moment. "You wish for me to help you undress?" he asked, his voice a mix of surprise and formality.

Arien nodded, her eyes pleading. "Yes, please. How did you think I managed to take the gown off last time without your help?"

Legolas hesitated, his thoughts racing. The situation was highly irregular. Following a maiden to her room at night and assisting her in undressing was not something taken lightly in his world. Moreover, the idea of being alone with Arien in such an intimate setting made his mind wander in unexpected directions.

"How did you manage it before?" Legolas asked, stalling for time.

Arien sighed, her frustration evident. "I maneuvered to take it off while it was still tied up, and then I had to untie it. But tonight, I simply want it removed. I could cut it off, but it was a gift from Arwen."

Legolas thought for a moment longer. Despite the awkwardness, he couldn't leave her in such discomfort. He decided to help quickly and then leave, vowing never to do anything like this again.

"Very well," he said, his voice steady. "I shall assist you."

They made their way back to her room, the night air cool and filled with the distant sounds of the revelry winding down. Arien led the way, her steps light despite the cumbersome dress. Once inside, she closed the door behind them and turned to face Legolas, her back to him.

Legolas took a deep breath, steeling himself for the task. He began to untie the ribbons and unfasten the straps, his fingers working deftly. As he worked, he couldn't help but notice the warmth of her skin beneath the fabric, the subtle rise and fall of her breathing.

Arien stood still, feeling the gentle tugging of the ribbons as Legolas worked. Her mind wandered to their earlier conversation, the shared stories and the unspoken connection that seemed to grow between them.

Finally, the last ribbon was undone, and the dress loosened around her. Legolas stepped back, averting his gaze to give her some privacy.

"There, it is done," he said softly, his voice tinged with relief.

Arien turned to him, a grateful smile on her lips. "Thank you, Prince Legolas," she said, her tone sincere. "I appreciate your help."

Legolas nodded, his usual formality returning. "You are welcome, Lady Arien. Now, I shall take my leave."

Arien nodded when Legolas told her that it was time for him to take his leave. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and watched him, noticing his unease. Being alone in a room with a maiden wearing only her undergarments, even if they covered most of her body, seemed to be a little too forward for him.

As Legolas turned to step towards the door, Arien closed his path and stood in front of him. She raised her eyes, looking deep into his. "Wait, dear prince," she whispered, leaning a little closer, standing so close to him that their bodies almost touched but did not.

Legolas lost his voice. In more than seven hundred years of living in this world, he had never felt so uncertain. He waited, watching as Arien's fingers moved across his shoulder, softly fixing his collar and pushing his long hair away.

"You should take care of your image," Arien said, her fingers lingering on his chest. Legolas felt a wave of discomfort, his heart racing. He took a step back, colliding with the desk behind him, and leaned on it, with Arien following, pressing slightly against him.

"Arien, please," he whispered, his voice a mix of urgency and confusion. This made her bolder. After all she had endured, now she had managed to trap Legolas.

Arien couldn't hide the thrill; the moment was too precious. She leaned forward, her lips so close to his. Legolas leaned closer as well, against his better judgment.

"It's a shame for a prince never to be kissed before," Arien whispered, her lips dangerously close to his. "Dear Prince, not curious? Not even a little bit?"

Arien was clearly teasing him, having found one thing that could make Legolas stressed and freeze. Of course, she wouldn't kiss him, not that she didn't want to. He was Legolas, and who wouldn't want to kiss him? But she would never do such a thing to him. He had told her before he was not interested in things like falling in love or romance, but that did not mean she would not tease him from time to time.

Legolas gazed down at her, their eyes locked. He wished he was strong enough to leave like the last time. His frustration became evident as he leaned fully in, his right hand softly grabbing the back of her head, and he kissed her.

It was a brief kiss, a little wild, but it did not last long. Their lips met, and they both lost their footing for a moment before Legolas stepped back. "Now I have been kissed," he managed to say, gently pushing her back. He gave his goodnight and managed to leave her room without stumbling.

As he left, Arien watched him go, a strange mix of emotions swirling within her. Her fingers touched her lips, her mind already celebrating the fact that she had been kissed by Legolas.

Legolas walked through the corridors, his mind replaying the evening's events. He resolved to keep the encounter to himself, a secret moment shared between them. Despite its awkwardness, it was an experience that had brought them closer in a way he hadn't anticipated.

The night air felt cooler as he stepped outside, a gentle breeze carrying the scents of the garden. He paused for a moment, looking back towards Arien's window, and then continued on his way, his thoughts lingering on the enigmatic maiden who had so unexpectedly become a part of his life.

Legolas knew he could not continue to play such dangerous games. Perhaps Arien, with her modern sensibilities, saw kissing him as no big deal, but for him, it was not a game. If he allowed himself to play such games with Arien, he might end up falling for her. To protect both himself and her, he decided to create some distance between them. Arien was many things, and now she was becoming a dear friend. He couldn't risk that friendship.

That night, Legolas sought out Gimli, who was still engaged in a drinking game with Éomer.

"Where were you, lad?" Gimli asked, raising his tankard. "Come, we just started this round."

Legolas placed a hand on Gimli's shoulder, signaling for his attention. Gimli, noticing the serious expression on his friend's face, quieted down and waited for him to speak. Legolas told him that they should depart for Mirkwood at dawn.

Gimli reacted with surprise, finding the departure too sudden. "Isn't it a bit soon? We could wait another day or two."

But Legolas remained firm, his tone leaving no room for debate. "If possible, we should leave at dawn. I feel it is best."

Gimli studied his friend's face, seeing the determination etched there. With a nod, he agreed. "Alright, if you feel that strongly about it, we'll leave at dawn. I'll talk to Aragorn. Tonight, we have some packing to do."

Legolas gave a small, grateful smile, relieved that Gimli understood without needing further explanation. The weight of the evening's events settled on his shoulders as they made their way to prepare for the journey ahead.

The morning light crept over Minas Tirith, casting long shadows on the white stone of the city. Legolas and Gimli, their belongings packed, made their way to Aragorn's chambers. The king, already up and preparing for the day, greeted them warmly.

"Legolas, Gimli, what brings you here so early?" Aragorn asked, sensing the urgency in their demeanor.

Legolas took a deep breath. "Aragorn, we must depart for Mirkwood. There are matters there that require my attention, and I feel it is best to leave now."

Aragorn's eyes narrowed with concern, but he nodded in understanding. "Very well, my friends. Go with my blessing. I will miss your company, but I know you have your duties."

Gimli clapped Aragorn on the back. "We'll return soon enough, laddie. Try not to let things fall apart while we're gone."

Aragorn chuckled, embracing them both. "Safe travels, my friends. May your journey be swift and your paths clear."

As they left Aragorn's chambers, Legolas felt a mixture of relief and sadness. He glanced back at the city, knowing that creating distance was the right choice. But his heart was heavy with the knowledge that he might be leaving behind something important.

The pre-dawn quiet shattered as a frantic rapping echoed on Arien's door. Groggily, she stumbled towards it, flinging it open to reveal a sight that sent a jolt through her – Gimli, clad head to toe in travel gear, a tremor of unease etched on his usually stoic face.

"There's little time, lass," he rumbled, his voice thick with urgency. "The elf appeared last night, addled and frantic. He speaks only of a sudden departure for Mirkwood."

Disbelief gnawed at Arien. Legolas, leaving without a word? Was it something she'd said? Had she been too...much?

"He's…confused, Gimli," she stammered, her heart thudding a frantic rhythm. "Go after him, slow him down if you can, but don't let him get too far ahead!"

A whirlwind of activity followed. Her wardrobe door creaked open, revealing a tapestry of familiar travel outfits. Today, though, her fingers bypassed the usual comfort of worn leather breeches and opted for a sleek, forest green tunic that hugged her curves. Over it, she donned a supple leather jerkin, its surface etched with intricate elven runes that shimmered faintly in the dim light.

Doubt gnawed at her. Why the sudden secrecy? Legolas vanishing like a wisp of smoke…it reeked of something far more sinister than a simple change of plans.

"Make haste, Gimli," she pressed, a tremor in her voice betraying her growing fear. "But don't breathe a word of our meeting to the elf."

He nodded curtly, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in concern. Stepping out into the cool morning air, both the elf and the dwarf mounted their steeds. Together, they thundered through the dew-kissed streets of Gondor, leaving a trail of dust in their wake.

Gimli, a master of subterfuge, played his part admirably. He feigned sudden needs – a new waterskin, a forgotten map – each delay chipping away at the miles Legolas could devour. Finally, as they neared the city gates, Gimli stumbled with a theatrical groan, landing with a dramatic thud in the dirt. Legolas, ever the stoic elf, muttered a terse curse under his breath. The urgency in his tone was a stark contrast to his usual controlled demeanor.

Meanwhile, Arien raced against the clock. Back in their chambers, she found Aragorn and Arwen deep in conversation, their faces etched with worry. The news of Legolas's sudden departure hung heavy in the air.

"I must go," she declared, her voice tight with barely concealed panic. "I'm with Legolas, headed for Mirkwood."

Aragorn's jaw clenched, his gaze flickering between her and Arwen. "Mirkwood? But Arien, the dangers…"

"There's no time to explain," she cut him off, already striding towards the door. "I'll be safe. Legolas and Gimli are with me."

Before anyone could protest, she was gone, the door slamming shut with a resounding thud. The stables became a blur of motion as she saddled her mare, adrenaline coursing through her veins. With a final, determined glance at the fading mist where the others had disappeared, she spurred her mount forward, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs. The fate of Legolas, and perhaps more, hung in the balance.

Legolas, feeling the weight of his hastened decision, urged his steed forward, his mind a storm of conflicting thoughts. He needed to distance himself from Arien, to protect them both from the dangerous game they had started. Yet, as he rode, the image of her face, her teasing smile, and the warmth of her presence haunted him.

The elf had barely noticed Gimli's delaying tactics, his thoughts too preoccupied. But as Gimli's theatrical stumble finally forced him to halt, he sighed, dismounting to assist his friend.

"Gimli, we must keep moving," Legolas said, his voice strained.

"Aye, I know," Gimli grumbled, dusting himself off. "But a dwarf needs a moment to catch his breath, eh?"

Legolas offered a tight smile, his patience thinning. Just then, the sound of galloping hooves reached their ears. Both turned to see Arien, her hair streaming behind her, her expression one of fierce determination.

"Legolas!" she called, her voice carrying through the still morning air.

His heart skipped a beat, but he masked his surprise with a calm facade. "Lady Arien, what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't let you leave without a word," she replied, dismounting swiftly. "We need to talk."

Legolas glanced at Gimli, who offered a shrug. "It seems she won't be dissuaded," the dwarf said.

With a resigned nod, Legolas turned back to Arien. "Very well. Let us speak."

They found a secluded grove just off the main road, the early morning light filtering through the trees in golden shafts. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, a sharp contrast to the turmoil swirling within them.

"Why, Legolas?" Arien demanded, her eyes searching his face. "Why leave so suddenly?"

Legolas took a deep breath, the weight of his decision pressing heavily upon him. "I thought it best," he replied carefully. "For both of us."

Arien stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. "You think running away is the answer? After everything we've been through?"

"It's not running away," Legolas countered, his voice firmer. "It's ensuring we do not cross lines that should not be crossed."

She shook her head, frustration etched across her features. "And who decides where those lines are? You? Because I certainly wasn't given a say."

Legolas met her gaze, his heart aching with the truth he struggled to voice. "Arien, our friendship is important to me. More than you know. But I cannot risk it becoming something more. For your sake and mine."

Arien's expression softened, the fight draining from her. "Legolas, I never meant to complicate things. I value our friendship too. But we can't just pretend nothing happened. And let you leave like that!"

He nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "I know. But we can move forward, with caution."

She took a deep breath, her resolve strengthening. "Alright. But don't shut me out."

Legolas smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "Agreed. Now, let us continue to Mirkwood. There is much to be done. We will talk when I return."

Arien's demeanor shifted, her casual stance transforming into one of determination. "Huh," she said, her voice devoid of the usual formalities. Arien knew what it meant for Legolas to return to Mirkwood; it wasn't just to see his father but to seek out the orcs that had attacked Mirkwood during their hunt for Gollum. She had overheard Legolas discussing this with Elladan one evening when they were bringing Arwen to Gondor. They had been deep in conversation by the campfire, and she had quietly listened in, understanding the gravity of his mission. She couldn't let him and Gimli face such dangers alone.

"You think I followed you only to hear you tell me that we will talk when you return?" Arien's words spilled out, unfiltered and raw. "I will follow you, whether you like it or not. And you cannot do anything about it."

Legolas sighed, his patience wearing thin. "Turn back, Arien," he commanded. "Mirkwood is no place for children."

"What the..." Arien started, her temper flaring. "I am not a child! I have fought beside you in most of the battles. I might not be as strong as you, but I can hold my ground!"

"Indeed, you are worse than a child," Legolas retorted, his voice cold. "A child would know when to step back from danger. A child would not be so reckless."

"And you are not?" Arien shot back, disbelief etched on her face.

"Am not what, exactly?" Legolas quizzed, his eyes narrowing.

"Reckless," Arien repeated, her voice firm. "If I recall correctly, it was you who was reckless last night and kissed me. So spare me your speeches, because you will not impress me. Let's leave."

She didn't wait for his response. With a determined stride, she stepped next to Gimli and leapt onto her horse. Gimli, silent but watching the exchange with a mix of amusement and concern, waited for Legolas.

Legolas, his frustration mounting, walked over and mounted his own horse. His anger simmered beneath the surface, not just at Arien's defiance but at the uncomfortable truth in her words. She was right, and that realization gnawed at him.

((Upcoming Chapter Fifty- Two))

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