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)

ActVI

The Shadows

Chapter 58: Gifted Gowns & Won Sandals

Imladris, September 19th 3018 T.A

Xena stepped out of the bathing area with quickened steps, the basket Míresgaliel had given her tucked firmly under her arm. The sensation of Legolas's lips still lingered on hers, subtle yet undeniable. She couldn't help but recall the last time she had kissed him, back in The Wold. That kiss had been raw and impulsive, driven mostly by her own fiery emotions and the heat of the moment. It had meant little back then—a release, nothing more.

But today, it felt different. The kiss was soft and brief, yet there was an intimacy in it that she hadn't expected. It didn't seem to hold any deep meaning, but the feel of his lips, the warmth of the brief connection, stayed with her longer than it should have. Her thoughts wandered as she walked, musing on the curious tension between them, a tension that seemed to grow more pronounced each day.

By the time she reached her room, she had almost forgotten about the basket under her arm and the stolen moment in the pool. But there was Míresgaliel, standing by the window, a knowing smile on her face. "I see you've taken good care of your hair," she commented approvingly, noticing the subtle shimmer in Xena's locks. "The elvish oil—it works wonders, doesn't it? But I'm surprised you found it... it's usually kept in the private bathing areas."

Xena felt a twinge of amusement. Of course, Míresgaliel wouldn't know that Legolas himself had applied the oil to her hair, after they'd both shared an unexpectedly intimate bath. For a brief moment, Xena entertained the idea of telling her, just to see the reaction on the elf maiden's face. The thought was almost too tempting.

But instead, she only shrugged, playing it off casually. "I must've stumbled into the right place. Elvish baths are confusing, you know. All the twists and turns. But the oil's nice... I'll give you that."

Míresgaliel looked momentarily confused but let the topic drop, too pleased with Xena's appearance to press further. Xena smirked inwardly, imagining how scandalized Míresgaliel would be if she knew the truth of what had happened in the bath with the Woodland prince.

Perhaps another time.

Xena's smirk faded the moment Míresgaliel presented the gown she was expected to wear for the upcoming fest. Her eyes widened slightly as she looked at the elaborate garment lying across the bed. "Míresgaliel, is this what I'm supposed to wear?" Xena's tone was dry but tinged with genuine curiosity as she eyed the delicate fabric with mild disdain. She was a warrior—used to leather, steel, and the weight of her armor—not whatever shimmering thing was laid before her now.

Míresgaliel stepped forward with a serene smile, the soft cadence of her voice soothing yet unyielding. "Yes, Lady Xena. This gown was crafted for the rarest of occasions, woven by hands that understand the power and grace you carry within."

Xena stared at the gown, perplexed by its craftsmanship. It wasn't like the other gowns Arwen had crafted for her. This was different—more regal, more personal. The fabric shimmered in the dim candlelight, shifting hues from golden amber to misty blue as Míresgaliel spread it out for her to see. The bodice was a marvel of elven artistry, with intricate golden vines and leaves spiraling across the breastplate, as though nature itself had woven the gown. It was breathtaking, and yet it unnerved her.

As Míresgaliel moved to assist her into the gown, Xena hesitated but eventually relented, standing still as the elf worked with practiced ease. The fabric slid over her body, hugging her frame snugly but comfortably. Despite its delicate appearance, the gown was surprisingly durable, designed to emphasize her strength without hiding her femininity. The vines and branches stitched across the bodice gave her the look of someone both fierce and elegant, like the embodiment of a warrior princess.

"The gown reflects the sky at dawn," Míresgaliel explained as she adjusted the translucent sleeves over Xena's muscular arms. The fabric of the sleeves was light, ethereal even, embroidered with golden leaves that shimmered in the faint glow of the room. The wide, bell-like sleeves shifted with her movements, as though the gown itself was alive, attuned to the flow of nature around her.

Xena turned her head slightly, her curiosity piqued. "Who made the request for this gown?"

Míresgaliel smiled knowingly as she tied a final ribbon around Xena's waist. "The Prince of the Woodland Realm made the request. A token of gratitude for saving his life from the Nazgûl." She chuckled softly before adding, "There was a bit of trouble with it, you know. Legolas isn't one to go around ordering gowns, especially one so specific. So he enlisted Lady Arwen's help. It was quite the spectacle, the two of them plotting and planning to get this design just right without causing a stir."

Xena's eyes narrowed, and she felt a sudden urge to laugh. "Oh, I'll be sure to thank him," she muttered sarcastically. "And I'll make sure he knows to stop getting me gowns. What's wrong with the two of them?"

Míresgaliel laughed softly, continuing to secure the final parts of the gown, her deft hands adjusting the intricate details that Xena could never manage on her own. The skirt of the gown was a masterpiece in itself. Beginning at the waist in a deep golden orange, it flowed downward, transitioning into soft blues and silvers that resembled the breaking dawn over distant mountains. Embroidered branches and vines trailed down the fabric, pooling slightly on the floor, giving the impression that Xena was walking through an ancient forest.

Xena lifted her arm and watched as the gown's light fabric swirled around her wrist. "It's… light," she remarked quietly, more to herself than anyone else.

Míresgaliel smiled proudly "It is designed to move with you, not to restrain you. A warrior's strength comes from within, not from the weight of her armor."

Xena studied herself in the mirror, still unsure about the transformation. The gown was far removed from the rugged attire she was accustomed to, yet it didn't make her feel any less like herself. In fact, it added an elegance and nobility to her that she had long since abandoned. For the first time in a long while, she felt like more than just a warrior. She felt regal, as if she were a princess in her own right.

Míresgaliel took a step back, her eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and admiration. "You are almost ready, Lady Xena. The fest will soon begin, and you wear the gown as if it were made for no one else but you."

Xena, still unaccustomed to such grand adornments, gave a small, uncertain nod. But deep down, she felt something shift within her. This wasn't about the gown, or even the fest. It was a reminder that strength and beauty weren't opposites. They could coexist, enhancing each other, just as they did now with her.

As she stood there, in that fleeting moment, Xena allowed herself to embrace both sides of her nature—the warrior and the woman. Míresgaliel admired the gown as and her work of managing to fit Xena into the dress as exactly as it should had been worn. Then one more thing remained her hair.

Míresgaliel had her carefully sit on a wooden cozy stool as she explained to her that she would braid an Elven Bun with Braided Accents for Xena. If she did not like it they could try something else. Xena simply nodded as she knew escaping from Míresgaliel today would be impossible.

Míresgaliel explained to her about the Base Style of A low bun sits at the nape of the neck, reflecting elven elegance. The bun itself is twisted into an intricate, woven pattern, with strands carefully looped and secured to create a regal appearance.

As she had started braiding the Braided Accents: From each temple, two small braids are woven, curving backward along the sides of the head and seamlessly merging into the bun. These braids add a warrior touch, evoking strength and functionality, while still maintaining a sense of beauty.

Xena was sitting there in front of her a large Mirror that she ignored to watch as she looked like it was out of this world. When she was done she added adornments of Silver clasps or delicate elven hairpins, resembling vines or leaves, decorate the bun and braids, adding a subtle sparkle that mirrors the ethereal beauty of Rivendell.

After Míresgaliel finished her meticulous adjustments, she stepped back to admire her handiwork. Xena stood before the mirror, the gown fitting her perfectly, every detail accentuating her strength and grace. The elf maiden's eyes shone with satisfaction, clearly proud of the transformation.

But there was one final touch missing. Míresgaliel moved to a nearby chest and lifted the lid, revealing a pair of exquisite high-heeled sandals. They were not mere slippers but works of art—adorned with intricate leaf motifs that gracefully wrapped around the legs, resembling delicate vines woven with masterful precision. The leaves were crafted from a shimmering metallic material that caught the light, reflecting hues of gold and silver, as if each piece were forged from the very starlight of the Elves' sacred woods.

Xena's eyes widened slightly as she took in the sight. She was not one to be captivated by glamorous attire or footwear, but these sandals were undeniably unique. There was something about them that drew her in—a blend of elegance and strength that resonated with her warrior spirit.

Míresgaliel approached with the sandals in hand. "These are not mere shoes," she said softly, kneeling to help Xena slip them on. "They are a gift from the Golden Wood of Lothlórien. They once belonged to Lady Arwen, one of her favorites. Crafted by the finest artisans, they are woven from the silver threads of Telperion, the ancient White Tree, and adorned with leaves forged from mithril. Light as air yet strong enough to endure any terrain. They are imbued with the grace of the Elves, designed to enhance your every step, making you swift and silent. You shall tread like a whisper in the wind, and the world will turn its gaze to the majesty in your stride."

Xena furrowed her brow, confused. "Arwen's shoes? How did they end up here, and how do they fit me so perfectly?"

Míresgaliel smiled gently as she fastened the straps around Xena's ankles. "These sandals were made a size larger than intended, and Lady Arwen found them a bit too big to wear comfortably. She often spoke of them, admiring their beauty despite not being able to use them. When Prince Legolas arranged for your gown, he asked Lady Arwen about them."

"Legolas?" Xena raised an eyebrow, intrigue evident in her eyes. "He went to Arwen about these shoes?"

"Indeed," Míresgaliel nodded, a hint of amusement in her expression. "I do not know the full story, but it seems he won them fairly from Lady Arwen."

"Won them?" Xena echoed, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "How did he manage that?"

The elf maiden chuckled softly. "That part remains a bit of a mystery, even to me. But what matters is that they are now yours."

Xena stood up, feeling the subtle enchantment coursing through the sandals. They seemed to attune themselves to her movements, offering both comfort and strength. She took a few tentative steps, the sandals fitting as though they were made for her. Momentarily, she was in awe of the craftsmanship and the unexpected elegance they added to her formidable presence.

She turned back to her reflection. The woman staring back was both familiar and foreign. Gone was the rugged warrior clad in armor and leather; in her place stood someone who embodied both strength and grace—a fusion of her indomitable spirit and the ethereal beauty of the Elves.

"I hardly recognize myself," Xena admitted quietly, her eyes tracing the intricate details of the gown and sandals. "This is... different from the gowns I've worn before."

Míresgaliel's eyes softened with understanding. "It suits you," she said kindly. "You carry both the fierceness of a warrior and the grace of a princess. This attire reflects that balance."

Xena nodded slowly, her thoughts drifting to Legolas. She couldn't ignore the effort behind these gifts—the gown tailored specifically for her, the sandals with their own mysterious tale. She realized she needed to have a conversation with him—not only to thank him but also to learn the full story behind the shoes.

"Thank you, Míresgaliel," Xena said, offering a rare smile.

The elf maiden inclined her head gracefully. "It has been my pleasure, Lady Xena. The fest will begin soon."

As Xena made her way toward the door, she felt a newfound confidence. Each step was light yet purposeful, the sandals making her feel as though she were gliding. The gown flowed around her like a living thing, its colors shifting subtly with her movements.

Xena stepped out of her chamber, the door closing softly behind her as Míresgaliel remained inside to restore the room to its previous order. She wasn't accustomed to such grandeur—the elegant gowns, the delicate sandals, the attentive maidens, and certainly not the formal feasts of the Elves. She lingered in the corridor, her fingers lightly tracing the intricate embroidery on her gown. It was all because of Legolas. A mixture of gratitude and irritation swirled within her. She wanted to thank him—and perhaps punch him—for going to such lengths.

Just then, as if summoned by her thoughts, the door across the hall opened. Legolas emerged, and for a moment, Xena scarcely recognized him. He was resplendent in attire that mirrored her own gown's design. His tunic, flowing and elegant, was crafted from a soft, lightweight fabric that shimmered subtly in the evening light. It was a delicate moss green, reminiscent of deep woodland groves, with intricate gold embroidery tracing the neckline, cuffs, and hem in patterns of leaves and vines. Over his shoulders draped a cloak of fine fabric in a deep, earthy hue of burnt sienna, fastened with a silver leaf-shaped brooch.

His leggings were a deep forest green, tailored from supple material that allowed him to move with the lightness characteristic of his kin. His fine leather boots, adorned with leaf-like patterns, rose just below his knees. Around his waist rested a slender belt of braided leather, decorated with small beads and delicate metal leaves that caught the light. His golden hair was partially braided, with thin plaits woven with tiny ornamental clasps shaped like leaves, adding a touch of seasonal adornment. Loose strands framed his keen elven features. Upon his brow, he wore a delicate silver circlet.

They stood there, two figures so transformed they seemed both new and familiar. Their eyes met in a silence that stretched out between them, each taking in the sight of the other, absorbing the details they had never noticed before.

Legolas was more than pleased with what he saw. The gown fit Xena like it was woven from the air itself, embracing her form with an elegance that surpassed even his imagination. She had told him before that she had many skills, and now he saw that wearing a gown like this was one of them. The delicate fabric moved with her like a second skin, and he knew, without a doubt, that no Elven maiden could wear it better. The sandals, too, seemed crafted just for her, emphasizing the grace of her every step.

Xena saw the pride in his stance, the way his eyes lingered over her, as if he were both assessing and admiring his choice. And she, in turn, was noticing something about him she hadn't before. It wasn't just his attire, though the formal tunic and cloak lent him an unmistakable air of nobility. It was the entire bearing, the way he held himself now—far removed from the Legolas she knew, the one weighed down by nightmares and the weariness of battle. This was Legolas, the Prince, born and bred, and it was evident in every inch of him, from his posture to the serene yet inscrutable look on his face.

His expression was carefully controlled, his face unreadable. Any shadows that usually darkened his gaze were hidden or held back by a mask of calm. For a moment, Xena felt a flicker of doubt. He seemed so distant, almost as if he was far beyond her reach. She found herself wondering if she should speak or simply turn and leave.

"Prince Legolas," she said softly, testing the formality that hung in the air. She watched as his cold gaze softened, transforming into something warmer, more familiar. She stepped closer, bridging the gap between them. "I've been told I have you to thank for this." She gestured to the gown and then lifted the hem slightly, revealing the sandals. "And for these."

Legolas met her halfway, his eyes still lingering on her attire. He inclined his head in a gesture that was both modest and sincere. "It was a small gesture. You saved my life; it seemed only fitting to offer something in return, my lady." His tone was formal, matching the air of the occasion, a stark contrast to their usual exchanges.

"A small gesture?" Xena repeated, raising an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her voice. "This gown is exquisite, and these sandals—Míresgaliel tells me they once belonged to Arwen."

A faint smile touched his lips. "They were meant for her, yes, but they never quite fit. When I saw them, I thought they might suit you." He extended his arm, gesturing for her to take it, the formality of the evening still holding them in its grasp.

She rolled her eyes but decided to play along, slipping her hand through his arm. As they began to move toward the Hall of Fire, his pace was deliberate and measured, unlike his usual quick and sure-footed strides.

"And how did you 'win' them from Arwen?" Xena inquired, her tone lightening as she fell into step beside him.

Legolas chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to ease some of the tension between them. "A friendly wager. Let's just say she underestimated my skills."

"Is that so? I didn't think Arwen was one to gamble away such treasures," Xena replied, a smile playing on her lips, though she could feel herself growing slightly irritated by the ongoing formal act.

"She was more than willing," he replied with a knowing gleam in his eyes. "Especially when it meant they would find a proper home."

Legolas could sense her growing impatience with all the formalities, even if she hid it well. He knew that tonight he had to present himself as the prince, as all the lords and ladies of Imladris would be present. In this gathering, the warrior had no place; it was the prince's role to be on display.

He didn't particularly enjoy these kinds of gatherings, but knowing his friends would be there—the twins, Arwen, and now Xena—made it more tolerable. He had anticipated this moment ever since he saw Xena wearing the gown she had ordered with Arwen. He had imagined her in a gown of his choosing, and now that vision was standing before him, a reality that felt both surreal and satisfying.

Still, he knew they couldn't keep up this formality for long, or she might just decide to punch him for good measure. Legolas didn't want that, not tonight. He gently grasped her arm and drew her closer, leaning in to whisper against her ear, "Just for tonight, play along."

His voice was soft, more of a request than a command, a favor asked between friends. She relaxed at his words, turning to meet his gaze. She gave him a small, understanding nod, agreeing to go along with it—for now. Though she knew she would have a word with him later about his habit of gifting gowns and grand gestures.

With that silent accord, they continued their path to the Hall of Fire, a place where for one evening, they would both set aside their usual roles, even if just for the sake of tradition.

((Upcoming Chapter Fifty-Nine))

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