Lonely Dragon {Legolas x Reader}

Laketown

Bard skillfully guided the barge through the narrow canals of Lake-town, the dilapidated buildings casting long shadows over the still water. He steered toward a quiet, industrial part of the town, where the alleys were empty, save for the occasional flicker of lamplight. The only sign of life was a solitary dock worker securing the mooring. Bard acted swiftly and efficiently, using his foot to tip over the barrels. Fish and indignant dwarves tumbled onto the deck, sputtering as they freed themselves from the slippery mess.

The dock worker gaped in astonishment as Bilbo and the dwarves frantically extracted fish from their clothes, their expressions a mix of outrage and embarrassment. Bard pressed a silver coin into the dock worker's palm, his voice calm but firm.

"You didn't see them. They were never here. The fish—you can have for nothing."

Without further delay, Bard beckoned them to follow. "Come with me."

As they moved away from the wharf, a herb seller named Hilda watched the strange group of dwarves with wide-eyed wonder, her gaze lingering on their drenched and fish-covered forms.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the quiet streets. "Dad!"

Bard turned to see his son, Bain, rushing toward him, breathless.

"Our house—it's being watched."

Before Bard could respond, (Y/n) stepped forward, her voice cool and composed. "Smuggle the dwarves and Bilbo in—I can find my own way without being seen."

Bard's eyes flicked toward her, understanding the weight of her words. She was more than capable of avoiding unwanted attention.

Bard's two-story house sat on a narrow canal in the rundown part of Lake-town, its weathered exterior blending into the worn streets surrounding it. As Bard and Bain made their way toward the house, the streets were alive with subtle signs of watchfulness. A one-eyed beggar tapped his cane against the wall from a shadowed alcove, while two young boys ran through an alley, ringing a bell as they passed. Further down the street, a shady character lit his pipe, his eyes following Bard's movements.

Reaching the door, Bard cast a glance over his shoulder toward two boatmen lounging in a small boat. With a quick toss, he sent an apple in their direction.

"Tell the Master—I'm done for the day."

Bard and Bain hurried inside, bolting the door behind them. They were greeted by Bard's daughters, Sigrid and Tilda, their faces filled with relief.

"Da! Where have you been?" Tilda exclaimed as she threw herself into his arms.

Sigrid, more composed, but no less relieved, hugged him as well. "Father, there you are. I was worried."

Bard held them close, his eyes flicking toward the window, scanning the streets outside. Turning to Bain, he nodded. "Get them in."

Bain hurried down the steep stairs and pushed open the door to the toilet—a simple wooden seat perched over the lake waters. With a splash, Dwalin's head popped up through the hole, his expression thunderous.

"If you speak of this to anyone, I'll rip your arms off," he growled at Bain, who stifled a grin as he helped haul the wet and grumpy dwarves out of the long-drop one by one.

"Up there," Bain signaled, pointing up the stairs where his sister Sigrid watched in disbelief.

"Da," Sigrid called out, eyes wide, "why are there dwarves climbing out of our toilet?"

Tilda, younger and full of wonder, whispered, "Will they bring us luck?"

Before anyone could respond, (Y/n) gracefully appeared, entering through the back window. Her movements were silent, but her presence commanding, as if she had simply materialized in the room. Tilda gasped at the sight of the elven woman, her beauty and power undeniable.