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 59: The celebration of Autumn

Hall of Fire - Imladris, September 19th 3018 T.A

The Hall of Fire was beginning to glow with life as the evening shadows lengthened outside. The large room, carved from the very bones of Rivendell, stood illuminated by the great hearth that dominated the center of the hall. Flames leaped and flickered, casting a warm and inviting light that played upon the carved pillars and the rich tapestries adorning the walls. Unlike other nights, when the hall lay in quiet repose or echoed with the soft sounds of harp strings and gentle songs, tonight it was transforming into the heart of a rare celebration.

Large tables, arranged along the sides of the hall, were being laden with an array of fruits—pomegranates, figs, and golden apples gleamed beside piles of plump grapes and bowls of berries. Freshly baked bread and delicate pastries dusted with sugar sparkled under the warm light, while dishes of roasted vegetables, seasoned with herbs of the valley, added color and aroma to the feast. On a smaller table, vessels of carved wood and polished silver held wine, fragrant teas, and clear water, the drinks for the evening.

The elves of Rivendell, as well as a few from other realms who were guests in Elrond's house, began to arrive, moving gracefully through the hall. Their garments caught the light like the stars themselves, gowns woven from the finest Elven fabrics, each with its unique weave and hue. Elegant gowns in rich blues, deep greens, and soft silvers flowed like water, and tunics of fine linen and silk, adorned with intricate embroidery in gold and silver thread, shimmered as the guests moved.

In the center of the hall, Lord Elrond sat with Glorfindel and Erestor, who were both notable figures in Rivendell's council. Glorfindel, golden-haired and noble, wore a long robe of deep sapphire blue, embroidered with threads of gold, which matched the brightness of his hair. Erestor, ever the advisor, was dressed more somberly in robes of charcoal grey, but they, too, bore subtle patterns of silver leaves that glinted as he moved. They conversed in low tones with several visiting lords, their expressions a mix of formality and genuine interest. The atmosphere around them was calm, but there was an undercurrent of anticipation—an excitement for the evening ahead.

To one side, Arwen stood with her twin brothers, Elladan and Elrohir. She was clad in a gown of ethereal beauty—a delicate fabric of misty silver, overlaid with a sheer layer of pale blue that caught the light with every movement. The bodice was adorned with tiny white gems, reminiscent of stars against a twilight sky, and the sleeves flowed down her arms like wisps of fog. Her raven hair, braided with small silver flowers, framed her radiant face. She was in deep conversation with her brothers, who wore matching robes of dark green, subtly embroidered with golden leaves, symbolic of the House of Elrond. The three of them were engaged in a discussion about the rare assembly of guests, exchanging amused glances at some of the more notable figures who had not been seen in Rivendell for centuries.

A short distance away, Elros, Thalion, and Mírdan were mingling with the other guests. The three elves, loyal companions of Prince Legolas, were dressed in the formal attire of the Woodland Realm. Elros wore a deep forest green robe, lined with gold, while Thalion's robe was a rich brown, fastened with a silver leaf clasp, symbolizing his affinity with the trees of Mirkwood. Mírdan wore a softer green, with a high collar and subtle patterns of leaves woven into the fabric. Though they appeared at ease, they exchanged glances, quietly wondering when their prince would arrive. They spoke to a few guests about the current affairs of Mirkwood and other elven realms, but there was a sense of expectancy in their demeanor, a hope that the evening would soon begin in earnest.

Guests continued to arrive, each more splendid than the last, their attire a testament to the skill of Elven weavers and the beauty of their culture. Gowns of twilight purple, robes of autumnal gold, and tunics the color of the deep sea filled the hall. Soft laughter mingled with the murmur of conversation, and the gentle strains of a harp floated through the air as a musician began to play near the hearth, setting the tone for the evening.

Slowly, the Hall of Fire filled with a sense of magic that only Elves could conjure—a blending of history and timelessness, where the past and present met in a celebration of life, light, and the promise of the future. Tonight was a rare moment, one not often seen in Rivendell, where tales and songs would weave through the air, and for a little while, the weight of the world beyond its borders would be forgotten.

As more and more elves entered the room, the atmosphere grew livelier, the anticipation building for whatever surprises the evening might bring. Whispers of old stories and new rumors flowed through the crowd like a soft breeze, each elf eager to see who might arrive next, who might take up the lute or sing the next song, and which tales would be told tonight.

In this moment, the Hall of Fire became more than just a place; it became woven from light, laughter, and a thousand years of memory—a place where even the shadows seemed to dance in celebration of the rare gathering that had only just begun.

The Hall of Fire was now abuzz with life, filled to the brim with elves, a handful of humans, and even a few dwarves who had been staying in Elrond's house for various reasons—seeking aid, resting after long journeys, or simply enjoying the hospitality of Rivendell. The soft strains of elven music flowed through the room, mingling with the low hum of conversations and the occasional laughter that echoed off the stone walls. Stories were already being told in small, intimate circles; poems were recited by those with the gift of words, and the hall seemed to pulse with a rare, warm energy that filled the space.

When Legolas and Xena reached the first floor where the main gathering had taken place, their entrance did not go unnoticed. Even before they stepped into the Hall of Fire, elves gathered in groups outside, their gazes drawn toward the pair. Whispers spread like a breeze through the gathered elves, especially among the single elven maidens whose eyes followed Legolas's every move. Many of the elven lords greeted him with respectful bows, acknowledging the prince of Mirkwood. But today, something was undeniably different. Legolas had not arrived alone or with his usual companions—the twins, Arwen, or Aragorn. No, tonight, he walked in with a maiden by his side, a maiden dressed in an exquisite gown that caught the light and shimmered with every step. And, most notably, she held onto Legolas's arm.

Few in Rivendell knew who Xena was, and those who did were surprised to see her in such an elegant ensemble. Whispers rippled through the room, questions floated in the air—who was this woman, and why was she so close to the prince of Mirkwood? Xena, for her part, was only just beginning to realize how many elves resided in Rivendell. She also quickly noted that quite a few of them, particularly the maidens, seemed to be nearly drooling over Legolas. She leaned in close, a playful smirk on her lips.

"Legolas," she whispered, keeping her voice low but her tone teasing, "You certainly have quite the fan club."

Legolas glanced at her, his face remaining composed, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of amusement. "Indeed," he replied softly, "But tonight, we must remember the formalities."

"Very well, Prince Legolas," she returned, mimicking a respectful tone, which earned her a slight, approving nod from him. He appreciated her willingness to play along, even if it was clear neither of them enjoyed the constraints of formality.

As they entered the hall, the murmur of gossip only grew louder. The prince's rare attendance at such an event was noteworthy in itself, but his arrival with a maiden on his arm turned it into something of a spectacle. Elros, who had seen Xena in countless attires and situations, nearly dropped his goblet in surprise. He blinked several times, trying to reconcile the warrior he knew with the elegant figure before him. Thalion and Mírdan exchanged amused glances.

"Thranduil would be overjoyed," Thalion muttered under his breath, "to see his son finally arrive with a maiden at his side."

Mírdan nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "Indeed. And not just any maiden, but one who seems to have quite the presence."

Elros, however, wasn't as enthusiastic. "She's human," he pointed out, frowning slightly. "Tonight's appearance will only fuel the gossip further."

Thalion chuckled, giving Elros a friendly nudge. "Let them talk. Who knows, it might even be good for him."

Nearby, Arwen had also noticed their entrance. She felt a rush of satisfaction upon seeing how well the gown and sandals fit Xena. Arwen's twin brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, noticed as well, their eyes lingering more on Xena than on their old friend Legolas. They exchanged knowing looks.

"Do you think we should join the fires tonight?" Elladan asked with a grin, "Just in case Xena decides to dance."

Elrohir laughed, his eyes twinkling with mischief, but Arwen shot them a warning look. "Behave, both of you," she chided softly, though she couldn't help but smile at their antics.

Lord Elrond observed the scene from his place at the center of the room. He had noticed Legolas and Xena as soon as they entered, the human's transformation into such an elegant figure momentarily catching even his practiced eye. He hoped that the evening would remain as calm and pleasant as it had begun. Next to him, Glorfindel and Erestor exchanged quiet words, each curious about the prince's choice of companion.

Glorfindel leaned closer to Erestor, his voice low. "It seems our prince of Mirkwood has found himself a rather unusual companion."

Erestor nodded thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on Xena. "Indeed, but there is something… intriguing about her presence. I sense a strength that is not so easily seen."

Legolas, meanwhile, was aware of the eyes upon them, particularly those of the elven maidens who had begun to gravitate toward him, like moths to a flame. He felt Xena's eyes on him, her expression a mix of amusement and disbelief. She was clearly enjoying the spectacle, and he sensed she was resisting the urge to mock the scene unfolding before her.

"They do seem quite taken with you, Prince Legolas," she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, a playful lilt in her voice. "Are you sure that circlet isn't just a beacon for trouble?"

Legolas shot her a sidelong glance, a faint smile curving his lips. "You have no idea," he replied dryly, though there was a glint of humor in his eyes. He leaned slightly closer to her, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Remember, Lady Xena, tonight I am the prince. Play your part, and I shall play mine."

She gave him a knowing look but nodded, understanding that he was asking for her cooperation in navigating the evening's social minefield. She watched as the elven maidens began to make their way toward him, their eyes bright with curiosity and perhaps a touch of envy. Legolas, ever the diplomat, greeted them with polite nods and courteous words, but he kept Xena close to his side.

The murmur of the crowd grew louder, and the whispers became a chorus of speculation. Xena took note of the effect Legolas had in these formal surroundings when he fully embraced his role as a prince. She tried to suppress a grin as she watched the elven maidens inch closer, hoping to gain his favor or at least his attention.

"Well," Xena said under her breath, "This should be entertaining."

Legolas looked down at her, his expression unreadable but his eyes dancing with amusement. "Behave," he warned softly, though there was no real reprimand in his voice.

And so, they stood amidst the swirling conversations, a curious and compelling pair, each playing their part in a gathering that had suddenly become far more interesting with their arrival.

Xena had barely escaped the swarm of elven maidens who seemed intent on capturing Legolas's full attention, her hand slipping free from his arm as the tide of interest surrounded him. She could see the prince's polite smile, the way he courteously greeted each maiden with a nod or a soft word, but she knew he would not appreciate the endless parade. Amused, she decided to let him endure the ordeal for a while.

Moving through the crowd with a grace that belied her discomfort, Xena soon found herself face-to-face with Arwen. The elf maiden's smile was warm and knowing, her eyes reflecting a hint of amusement as she observed the dynamic between Xena and Legolas. "You look stunning tonight, Xena," Arwen began, her voice melodic and gentle. "The gown suits you perfectly."

Xena noticed the way Arwen's gaze had followed them as they entered the Hall of Fire, her perceptive eyes picking up on every subtle cue in their body language. Xena had the distinct impression that Arwen was gauging more than just her attire. "I could say the same for you," Xena replied, admiring Arwen's elegant gown of deep silver, intricately embroidered with delicate star patterns that shimmered like the night sky. "But I have a feeling you're quite used to compliments."

Arwen laughed softly, the sound like a soft bell. "Perhaps," she conceded, "but yours is among the kindest I've received." Her smile grew a bit more knowing. "And I must thank you, Xena, for taking Legolas under your wing. He seems… different since you arrived."

Xena tilted her head, intrigued. "Different?"

"Lighter, perhaps," Arwen said, her tone thoughtful, as if she was aware of more than she was revealing. "Less burdened by shadows."

Xena smiled at that, understanding there was some truth to Arwen's words but choosing not to delve too deeply. "Someone has to keep him on his toes," she replied lightly.

Arwen laughed again, her eyes twinkling with understanding. She gently squeezed Xena's arm before moving on to greet other guests, leaving Xena with a sense that she had passed some unspoken test.

As Arwen moved gracefully away, Xena felt a playful presence at her side. She turned to see Elladan and Elrohir, their identical dark hair and mischievous grins making it hard to tell them apart. They stood shoulder to shoulder, clearly having observed her exchange with Arwen.

Elladan gave a mock bow, his eyes sparkling with humor. "Ah, the warrior maiden who dares to attend a feast! How do you find Rivendell's finest tonight?"

Elrohir chimed in, his grin widening. "Or perhaps we should say, Rivendell's most curious?"

Xena rolled her eyes, casting a glance back toward Legolas, who was now surrounded by a cluster of eager elven maidens. "Amusing, to say the least. But I've fought worse battles," she replied with dry humor, making both twins laugh.

Elladan's smile widened. "Indeed, Xena, you seem to have made quite an impression—both on our prince and on our lovely maidens."

Elrohir leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. "You should see their faces! They've never seen him with someone quite like you."

Xena smirked, refusing to take the bait. "I doubt they've seen much beyond their own reflections," she quipped.

Elladan laughed, but his expression grew slightly more serious. "A sharp tongue! Be careful, Xena, or you might find yourself the subject of a different kind of challenge."

Xena's eyes sparkled with confidence. "I welcome any challenge," she shot back.

The twins shared a look of approval, clearly enjoying her presence. "We look forward to seeing more of you, Xena," they said in unison before melting back into the crowd.

Continuing her journey through the hall, Xena spotted Elros, Thalion, and Mírdan near a large table laden with food. Thalion waved her over, a friendly smile lighting up his face.

"Xena! It's good to see you mingling," Thalion called, his tone genuinely pleased.

"Mingling or surviving?" Xena teased as she approached, returning his smile.

Elros grinned, his eyes twinkling with a hint of approval. "A bit of both, I imagine. But it seems you've managed to handle yourself well enough."

Mírdan leaned in with a more conspiratorial tone. "We were just discussing how pleased Thranduil would be to see Legolas here, with you no less."

Xena raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? I doubt the king of Mirkwood concerns himself with such trivialities. Our entrance will be forgotten soon enough."

Elros's expression grew a bit more serious. "Still, it's rare for Legolas to attend such events with a companion, especially one who isn't of our kind. Elves love to gossip, and believe it or not, it can sometimes cause a stir."

Xena caught the subtle tension in his words but chose to deflect with humor. "I think he just enjoys my company… and my ability to punch him when necessary."

The three elves chuckled, and Thalion added, "Well, if anyone could handle him, it would be you."

Xena nodded in agreement, feeling more at ease with their camaraderie. Still, she noted Elros's concern and sensed there might be more to the politics of this gathering than she initially thought.

She excused herself to grab a drink, her mind turning over the new layers she had begun to perceive in the room's social dynamics. As she made her way through the crowd, picking up snippets of conversations, she took a moment to listen to the songs and stories being shared, enjoying the soft melody that seemed to fill the air.

Then, as if sensing an approaching storm, a small group of elven maidens intercepted her path. Their faces were composed, but their eyes held a sharpness that did not escape Xena's notice. The tallest among them, with long raven hair and an imperious expression, took the lead.

"You are the human who came with Prince Legolas, are you not?" she asked, her tone polite but undeniably clipped.

Xena met her gaze evenly, her expression calm but alert. "I am. And you are?"

"Lindaleth of Rivendell," the maiden replied, a hint of rivalry in her voice. "We have heard much about you, Lady Xena. Though I must say, your presence here is… surprising."

Xena raised an eyebrow. "Surprising? I would think Rivendell was known for its hospitality."

"Of course," another maiden chimed in, her gaze flicking toward Legolas. "But it is rare for a human to be so… close to one of our own."

Xena's smile remained, but she leaned in slightly, her voice lowering just enough to convey a subtle challenge. "If my presence troubles you, perhaps you should take it up with the prince himself."

Lindaleth blinked, momentarily caught off guard by Xena's directness. But before she could reply, Xena added with a sly grin, "Or perhaps you could introduce yourselves to him instead of hovering like moths to a flame. I think he might appreciate the change."

The maidens exchanged glances, a mix of shock and grudging respect in their expressions. Lindaleth finally inclined her head, her smile tight. "We shall… consider your advice."

As they moved away, Xena felt a surge of satisfaction. She had met the challenge head-on and even managed to enjoy herself in the process. Perhaps tonight would prove more interesting than she had anticipated.

The celebration continued to shift and change like a flowing river, moving from one rhythm to another. Songs were sung with voices that seemed to touch the very stars, poems recited with passion, and tales of old spoken with reverence. But the true spirit of the fest was yet to come, awaiting the fires that would soon blaze outside in the open spaces of Rivendell, where the night's wildest revelries would unfold under the watchful gaze of the moon and stars.

Legolas, meanwhile, had been thoroughly occupied with a constant stream of elven maidens. His presence at the feast was a rarity these days, and the maidens, eager for his attention, seemed to be making up for lost time. Questions flowed as freely as the wine, their conversations a mix of curiosity, admiration, and intrigue. Occasionally, a lord would join him, steering the conversation toward Mirkwood, politics, or the looming shadow of war, offering him a brief respite from the eager crowd.

When Xena had slipped from his side earlier, he had felt it immediately, sensing her absence like a shift in the wind. He let her go, knowing it wasn't fair to keep her tethered to him all night amidst this sea of admirers and curious eyes. But he kept her in his peripheral vision, watching as she moved gracefully through the Hall of Fire, mingling with ease. Her gown, with its ethereal shimmer, made her a striking figure against the backdrop of the room, and he found himself glancing at her more often than he intended.

As the night wore on and more elves began to gather in clusters, enjoying private conversations or preparing to move to the fires outside, Legolas finally found a moment of solitude. He breathed deeply, grateful for a pause from the overwhelming attention. But his respite was short-lived, as Xena approached, a smirk on her lips and a glass of wine in hand.

"Your silver circlet suits you, Prince Legolas," she teased, a playful glint in her eyes. "Gives you just the right amount of princess charm."

He shot her a glare, but there was no real anger in it, only frustration mingled with amusement. "I've had a very unpleasing night, Xena," he replied, his voice low but edged with humor. "Talking to so many maidens... I felt like I was being tested by the Valar themselves. Worse than any of my nightmares."

Xena took a sip of her wine, clearly enjoying his discomfort. "Well, if it's so unbearable, you could always find yourself an elven male, declare your intentions, and be a proper princess. That might just scare them off."

Legolas arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by her suggestion. "Careful, Xena," he warned, his tone mock-serious. "I could make your night just as difficult if I chose to."

She laughed softly, the sound warm and light. "Oh, I doubt that. You'd have to try much harder than that to trouble me."

For a moment, they fell into a comfortable silence. Legolas turned to look at her fully, taking his time, his eyes tracing the lines of her face, the way the gown hugged her form, the gleam of her hair in the dim light of the hall. Slowly, he reached out, letting his fingers brush against a stray strand of her hair, tucking it gently behind her ear. "You look… beautiful tonight," he murmured, his voice softer, more sincere than she had expected.

The air between them seemed to shift, thickening with unspoken things. Xena felt the compliment land like a soft weight in her chest, unsure of how to respond. She held his gaze, noticing the way his eyes seemed to darken, deep pools reflecting both curiosity and something else, something she couldn't quite name. The silence stretched, becoming more palpable, more charged, as they stood there, inches apart.

Legolas felt it too—the change, the skip in his heartbeat that surprised even him. His eyes flickered, a brief moment of uncertainty crossing his face before he acted. He reached for her wrist, his touch gentle but firm, and he pulled her closer to him. "Come," he said, his voice steady, though his heart raced.

Xena, momentarily caught off guard, followed without protest as he led her outside, moving with purpose toward the fires where the real heart of the celebration awaited. The cool night air hit her skin, and she was momentarily distracted by the beauty around them—the stars scattered across the sky like diamonds on black velvet, the soft crackle of flames, and the distant notes of music playing, mingling with the laughter of elves dancing around the fires.

She glanced at Legolas, who seemed at ease again, his demeanor relaxed, yet something in his eyes remained guarded, the earlier moment tucked away somewhere between them. She couldn't quite decipher it, couldn't decide whether to tease him again or ask him what had just passed between them.

As they reached the open spaces, the view was breathtaking. Fires blazed against the dark, casting a warm, golden light that danced across the ground. Elves moved with fluid grace, some dancing in soft, circular movements, while others leapt across the flames, their laughter echoing into the night.

Legolas turned to her, a faint smile on his lips as he began to explain, "This is one of our oldest customs, the dance of the fires. It is a celebration of life, of the changing seasons, and a time to honor those who came before us. It is said that to dance around the fire is to invite the blessings of the stars themselves."

Xena listened, her eyes following the movements of the dancers. "And what about the ones who leap over the fire?" she asked, curious.

"That is a challenge," Legolas replied, his smile widening slightly. "A test of courage and agility. To jump over the flames without hesitation is to show that you fear nothing, that your spirit is as free as the wind."

Xena nodded, a playful glint in her eyes. "Sounds like my kind of celebration," she mused, a grin tugging at her lips. "Do you ever jump over the fire, Prince?"

Legolas chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Perhaps, if I find the right reason to."

Xena tilted her head, intrigued. "And what would be a good enough reason for you?"

Legolas's gaze grew intense, his smile turning almost daring. "Maybe I will show you," he whispered, "if you stay close enough to find out."

They stood there together, the flickering light of the fires reflecting in their eyes, as the music played on and the night grew deeper, filled with possibilities yet to unfold.

((Upcoming Chapter Sixty))

Thank you for taking the time to read this! Feel free to Review - Follow - Favorite!