The quiet creaking of wood and the crackling of the fire were the only sounds in Bard's modest home, the soft warmth of the hearth offering a brief respite from the cold, damp world outside. (Y/n) sat with her back to the fire, the flickering flames casting a soft glow over her regal figure. Her presence was as commanding as it was serene, a quiet authority that filled the room despite the dwarves' restless energy.
The dwarves, though weary and wet from their long journey, had begun to stir with impatience. Thorin, Balin, and the others exchanged tense glances as their thoughts turned toward the armory in Lake-town. They needed proper weapons, not the makeshift tools Bard had offered earlier. But they also knew the risks—Bard had warned them of spies and watchful eyes, and Bain, the bargeman's son, had taken his father's warnings to heart.
Bain stood near the door, his young face set with determination. He glanced nervously at the dwarves, then at (Y/n), hoping for support in preventing what he knew was coming.
"You can't go," Bain pleaded, stepping in front of Thorin as the dwarf king moved toward the door. "My father said there are spies watching every corner. If you leave now, they'll know. They'll tell the Master."
Thorin frowned, his brows knitting together in frustration. "We can't wait any longer, lad. We need weapons."
(Y/n), seated near the fire, observed the exchange with calm detachment. Though her mind was elsewhere, considering the gravity of their quest and the dangers that lay ahead, her eyes softened as she watched Bain bravely attempt to stop the dwarves. He was just a boy, but he carried the weight of responsibility for his family and their safety.
Tilda, Bard's youngest daughter, sat close to (Y/n), gazing up at her in awe. The little girl had been quiet for most of the evening, but her curiosity had finally gotten the better of her. Tugging gently at (Y/n)'s sleeve, she asked, "Are you a princess?"
(Y/n) chuckled softly, the sound light and gentle as she turned her attention to Tilda. "No, little one. I am not a princess."
Tilda's eyes widened, clearly fascinated. "Then what are you?"
"I am a queen," (Y/n) replied, her smile growing as she saw the spark of wonder in the girl's eyes.
Tilda's jaw dropped, and she stared at (Y/n) with a mixture of awe and excitement. "Does that mean you could make me a princess?"
(Y/n) paused for a moment, pretending to think deeply, then smiled down at Tilda. "Potentially," she said, her voice playful. "But being a princess comes with great responsibility, you know."
Tilda's eyes shone with delight at the thought, but her smile quickly faltered when the tension in the room returned. The dwarves were clearly preparing to leave, and Bain's protests grew more urgent.
"You don't understand!" Bain insisted, his voice cracking slightly. "If you go to the armory, they'll catch you. They'll throw you in the Master's dungeons."
Balin placed a reassuring hand on Bain's shoulder, though his expression remained grim. "We've faced worse than dungeons, lad. We'll be careful."
Thorin, already at the door, turned back to the others. "We've waited long enough. We need proper weapons if we're to make it to the mountain in time."
The other dwarves murmured in agreement, their eyes gleaming with resolve. Even Bofur, ever the optimist, had lost some of his usual cheer as the weight of their mission pressed down on them.
(Y/n), watching the scene unfold, rose gracefully from her seat. "If you are determined to go," she said, her voice calm but firm, "then I will go with you."
Thorin frowned. "You needn't risk yourself for us."
But (Y/n) shook her head, her gaze steady. "I will not sit idly by while you walk into danger. I will make sure you are safe."
The dwarves exchanged uncertain glances. (Y/n) was formidable in her own right, a warrior who had seen more battle and danger than most of them combined. Her presence would be a comfort, but they also knew the risks.
Bain, sensing that his protests had failed, slumped against the wall, defeated. He knew there was no stopping them now.
"If something happens..." Bain's voice wavered. "Please, be careful."
"We will," (Y/n) said softly, her eyes meeting Bain's with understanding.
Tilda, still clinging to (Y/n)'s side, looked up at her with wide, concerned eyes. "Will you come back?"
(Y/n) knelt down to meet Tilda's gaze, placing a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder. "Of course," she said with a soft smile. "A queen always keeps her promises."
Tilda nodded, her fear slightly eased by (Y/n)'s words.
Without further delay, the dwarves gathered themselves, preparing for their journey to the armory. Bain stood aside, his heart heavy, as they made their way toward the door. Bilbo, always more cautious than the others, lingered at the back, casting a wary glance at (Y/n).
"Are you sure this is wise?" Bilbo whispered as they stepped out into the cold night air.
(Y/n) smiled down at the hobbit, her expression serene despite the tension. "No," she admitted quietly. "But wisdom and necessity do not always walk the same path."
Bilbo nodded, though his nervousness remained. Still, there was comfort in (Y/n)'s presence. She was a queen, after all—someone who had faced far greater dangers than Lake-town's watchful eyes.
The group slipped into the shadows of the town, moving silently through the narrow alleys and toward the armory. (Y/n) followed closely behind, her eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of danger. She had promised to protect them, and she would—no matter what awaited them in the depths of Lake-town.
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Lonely Dragon {Legolas x Reader}
Fanfiction(Y/n) or The Lonely Dragon, a name that was known across Middle Earth. Feared....admired.....worshipped All she wanted was to be normal, but that wasn't the case. She was made to be a weapon of war, the spawn of Sauron himself. His plan B if the Rin...
