Lonely Dragon {Legolas x Reader}

Secrets in the Shadows

The dim light of the hearth flickered across the humble walls of Bard's house, casting long shadows that danced with the flickering fire. In the corner, Kili lay on a makeshift bed, his skin pale and feverish, the blackened wound on his leg festering. Oin hovered over him, his face etched with concern as he gently applied what meager herbs he had managed to gather. Fili sat nearby, his gaze never leaving his brother, eyes filled with worry and helplessness.

In another room, at the small wooden table, you sat nursing a cup of hot tea, the steam curling upward into the cool air. Across from you, Bard cradled his own drink, his eyes scanning your face as though searching for something unspoken. The atmosphere was heavy, the weight of unvoiced thoughts hanging between you.

"Sorry it's not much," Bard said quietly, glancing at his meager stores. "Supplies are scarce here."

You offered him a faint smile, the warmth of the drink soothing in your hands. "It's fine. Don't worry."

The two of you fell into silence, the crackle of the fire and the occasional distant sound of Kili's laboured breathing the only interruptions. Bard, ever perceptive, noticed the tension in your gaze, the way your fingers tapped absently against the rim of the cup.

He leaned forward slightly, his voice soft but probing. "What are you keeping secret?"

Your eyes flickered up to meet his, startled by the directness of his question. For a moment, you considered deflecting, but something in his steady, knowing gaze held you.

"You wouldn't believe half of it," you said with a weary smile, though it held little humour. Not even Gandalf knew.

Bard studied you for a moment longer before his lips pressed into a thin line. "There is something you're keeping from them," he said, his voice gentler now. "I know that look. It's the same one I gave my children before I told them of their mother's demise."

You hesitated, the weight of your past pressing against your chest. The room felt colder, as though the fire couldn't quite chase away the chill of the memories that surfaced. You sighed, your fingers tightening around the cup.

"Sixty years ago, my people got word that a dragon had attacked and taken over a kingdom," you began, your voice quiet, laced with a bitterness you couldn't suppress.

Bard's eyes narrowed in recognition. "Erebor?"

You nodded, your gaze distant as the memories came flooding back. "I rode out to meet the survivors of Erebor. They were broken, scattered, but still clinging to hope. I had a council with their king, Thror." You paused, taking a slow breath. "I told him I could help. My people offered refuge in an abandoned city within our territory. We could provide them with food, supplies, a place to rebuild."

Bard listened intently, though confusion clouded his face. "What happened?"

A wry, almost bitter smile tugged at your lips. "He grew angry at my presence, refused to even hear what I was offering." You glanced at Bard, your eyes flickering with the long-buried pain of rejection. "All because of the sigil I wore... and my name."

Bard's brow furrowed. "Why? What was it about your name?"

"Long before Erebor's fall, there was a war. A war that I fought in... and lost." You paused, the memory still raw even after all these years. "Thror knew about this war, despite it being long before his time. To him, I was nothing more than a symbol of a lasting evil, a commander of darkness. He couldn't see past history. He wouldn't trust me."

Bard looked stunned, disbelief flickering across his features. "But you offered to help?"

You gave a slow nod, though the memory still stung. "I did. But when he dismissed me, he told me his plan was to go to Moria." Your voice lowered, the weight of the past heavy in your words. "I warned him. I knew what lurked there. But he wouldn't listen. His pride wouldn't allow it."

There was a long silence, the air thick with unspoken regret. Bard looked at you with a mixture of awe and sorrow, the pieces of your past slowly falling into place.

"And after that," you continued, your voice hardening, "I vowed never to help dwarves again."

The room seemed to hold its breath, the fire crackling softly in the background. Bard remained silent, absorbing the gravity of your words, understanding now the burden you carried.

Finally, he spoke, his voice a low murmur. "What made you help this time?"

You stared into your cup, your thoughts swirling like the steam rising from the tea. A soft, almost melancholy smile touched your lips.

"Well..." you began slowly, "if Smaug is alive, I want to bring him home. To my kingdom. He doesn't belong in Erebor."

Bard watched you, the intensity of your words sinking in. But then, your smile softened, a tenderness creeping into your expression. "But I suppose... also Bilbo."

Bard's brow lifted in surprise. "Bilbo?"

You chuckled softly. "Yes. Such a big world for such a small hobbit." You glanced toward the door where the barge had sailed off hours ago, carrying your companions toward the Lonely Mountain. "He's braver than he knows. And perhaps... I couldn't just stand by and watch them all fail. Not this time."

The silence settled over you both again, but this time it was lighter, more understanding. Bard nodded slowly, respect gleaming in his eyes.

As the fire flickered low, you both sat in quiet companionship, the weight of your secrets finally shared, though the path ahead still held many uncertainties. But for tonight, in the warmth of Bard's humble home, you allowed yourself a moment of peace.

Finally, after another sip of tea, you broke the silence.

"Bard, you've shown kindness to us when no one else would," you said, your voice steady but full of gratitude. "For that, you have my honor. I will protect you and your children, no matter what."

Bard looked at you in surprise, his brow furrowing slightly. "You don't owe me anything," he said softly, though there was a flicker of appreciation in his eyes.

You shook your head. "Perhaps not. But I give my word nonetheless. You have my friendship—and my protection."

Reaching into a small pouch at your side, you pulled out a necklace. It was a simple chain, but hanging from it was a dragon's tooth, old and worn but gleaming faintly in the firelight. You held it out to Bard, who took it with a mix of curiosity and awe.

"This is a token of my friendship," you said, watching as Bard turned the necklace over in his hands. "Keep it close. And remember this, Bard: if you hear noise coming from the mountain, if the air begins to rumble and the winds carry strange sounds, you must take your children and leave immediately."

Bard's expression grew serious, his gaze flickering to the necklace and back to you. "Where should I go?"

"To Mirkwood," you said firmly. "Take your children and go to the Elvenking, Thranduil. Show him this necklace, and tell him that I sent you. He will let you stay, no matter what. It is my promise."

Bard stared at the dragon tooth for a long moment, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Mirkwood... the Elvenking doesn't welcome strangers easily."

You nodded. "He doesn't. But he will know the significance of this token, and he will honor my word. You'll be safe there."

Bard met your gaze, understanding the gravity of your words. "You really believe something terrible is coming, don't you?"

A shadow passed over your face, your eyes darkening with the weight of your knowledge. "If Smaug is disturbed, it won't be just Erebor that's at risk. This entire land will suffer. And if the dragon rises... well, better to be far from this place."

Bard nodded solemnly, putting the necklace around his neck. "I'll take your advice. And I thank you—for the gift, and for your protection."

You smiled faintly, a gesture of reassurance. "We'll hope it never comes to that. But if it does, you and your children will be safe."

As the fire crackled low, the warmth of the shared trust between you and Bard replaced the heavy tension of earlier. A fragile but firm alliance had formed, one born of mutual respect and the understanding of the dangers lurking on the horizon.