Lonely Dragon {Legolas x Reader}

Kili

A/N: I have gone with (Y/n) staying in Laketown

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The bustling streets of Lake-town brimmed with energy as Bilbo and the dwarves, garbed in the garish finery gifted to them by the Master, filed onto a barge loaded with supplies. The heavy scent of wet wood and cold air mingled in the breeze, thick with the anticipation of the crowd that had gathered along the canal to witness the departure of the company.

The cheers of the onlookers filled the air, but Bilbo's sharp eyes scanned the group with mounting concern. He realized something was wrong.

"We're one short," Bilbo muttered, glancing around. "Where's Bofur?"

The dwarves pushed through the crowd, barely hearing him over the noise, but Thorin's face was set in stone. His blue eyes were focused ahead, determination hardening his features as they neared the gangplank.

"If he's not here," Thorin said with a grim tone, "we leave him behind."

Balin nodded, his voice somber. "We'll have to if we're to find the door before nightfall. We can risk no more delays."

The leader of the dwarves paused at the foot of the gangplank, watching as Bilbo and the others filed past. His hand shot out to stop Kili, who turned to face him, confusion clouding his youthful features.

"Not you," Thorin said firmly. "We must travel at speed. You'll slow us down."

Kili blinked, his expression incredulous. "What are you talking about? I'm coming with you. I'm going to be there when that door is opened—when we first look upon the halls of our fathers—Thor—"

"Kili," Thorin interrupted, his voice softening with regret. "Stay here. Rest. Join us when you're healed."

Kili took a step back, disbelief washing over him as Oin, who had been listening through his ear trumpet, approached and gently placed a hand on the younger dwarf's shoulder.

"I'll stay with the lad," Oin said, his voice low and steady. "My duty lies with the wounded."

Thorin nodded, his gaze hardening as he turned to move on, only to find Fili standing in his way. The younger dwarf's eyes burned with quiet defiance.

"Uncle," Fili said, his voice barely above a whisper, "we grew up on tales of the Mountain, tales you told us. You cannot take that away from him. I'll carry him if I must."

Thorin's voice dropped to a near growl, though the weight of his words was undeniable. "Fili, one day you will be King, and you will understand. I cannot risk the fate of this quest for the sake of one dwarf—not even my own kin."

As Fili turned to disembark, Thorin's voice cut through the air again, pleading now. "Fili! Don't be a fool! You belong with the company—"

"I belong with my brother," Fili said, his decision unwavering.

Standing nearby, you stepped forward, catching Thorin's eye. "I should stay here too," you said quietly. "I don't want to fall to gold."

Thorin hesitated, conflicted, but eventually he nodded, acknowledging the wisdom in your words. He stepped onto the boat, ready to leave, when Bilbo came rushing up to you, his eyes wide with concern.

"No!" Bilbo exclaimed. "You can't!"

You smiled warmly, kneeling to his height. "It's for the best, Bilbo," you said softly. "Besides, those orcs might make it here, and these soldiers..." You glanced at the armed men surrounding the docks. "They're a bit useless."

Bilbo's face fell, but his words faltered. "But...we need you."

Your expression softened further as you gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "My dear Bilbo, I will always be here if you need me." You reached down, patting his pocket where the One Ring lay. "Tap this ring three times, and I will come."

Bilbo's eyes widened in shock. "How did—"

Before he could finish, a sudden and motley band of musicians struck up a fanfare, and you hurried him onto the barge, lifting him aboard. As the music grew louder, you whispered in his ear, "Good luck. Stay safe."

The pompous voice of the Master of Lake-town rang out from a makeshift podium as he and Alfrid pushed their way through the crowd.

"Go now with our goodwill and good wishes," the Master bellowed, his false sincerity barely masked. "And may your return bring good fortune to all!"

A rousing cheer erupted from the crowd as the barge slid into the icy waters of the Long Lake, but the atmosphere turned tense as Bofur rushed through the throng, skidding to a halt beside Fili, Kili, and Oin.

"Did you miss the boat as well?" Bofur asked, slightly out of breath.

But Fili was no longer listening. His eyes were fixed on Kili, who was swaying on his feet, pale and drenched in sweat. Kili's legs gave way beneath him as he collapsed to the ground, his breathing shallow.

"Kili!" Fili cried out in alarm.

You quickly knelt beside the fallen dwarf, pulling aside the makeshift bandage on his leg. Your heart sank as you saw the blackened flesh spreading from his wound.

"Oh, Kili..." you whispered under your breath.

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Later, you carried Kili through the streets, flanked by Fili, Bofur, and Oin. When you reached Bard's house, you knocked urgently on the door. Moments later, Bard appeared, his face hard as he took in the sight of the dwarves at his doorstep.

"No," Bard said firmly. "I am done with dwarves. Go away."

Before Bard could close the door, Bofur scrambled forward, wedging his foot in the gap. "No one will help us. Please—Kili is sick. He's very sick."