This one is in third person POV
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The cold stone floor pressed against Bard's body, his muscles aching from the brutal treatment at the hands of the Master's guards. The faint sound of laughter echoed from beyond the iron bars of his cell, where Braga and the other guards drank and laughed, their voices slurred by ale.
Bard's eyes fluttered open. His head pounded, and the weight of his imprisonment settled heavily in his chest. Another low rumble reverberated through the air, this one unmistakable. His heart froze, the realization hitting him with chilling clarity.
Smaug was awake.
The cold floor felt even colder as dread spread through his body. The dragon was coming, and he was locked away, powerless to stop it.
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Lake-town was stirring. Townsfolk emerged from their homes, fear flickering in their eyes as they looked toward the mountain, where a firelight danced ominously against the dark sky. The faint rumble from the distance echoed in their hearts, warning them of the coming doom.
Among them, Bofur moved with urgency, his eyes scanning the streets as he ducked past distracted townsfolk. His task was clear—he needed herbs, and fast. Kili's life depended on it.
At the edge of town, near a small pig sty, Bofur's eyes lit up as he spotted a large pig, Pikelet, chewing on a wad of plants. Without a second thought, Bofur's hand shot out, ripping the plants from the pig's mouth. "Sorry, mate," he muttered, clutching the herbs as he hurried back toward Bard's house.
From above, Bolg watched with a sinister glint of triumph in his eyes. He had spotted his prey. His sharp gaze followed Bofur as the dwarf rushed through the streets below, unaware of the danger stalking him. With a silent signal, Bolg commanded Fimbul and the other hunter orcs to follow.
The hunt was on.
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Sigrid stood on the balcony of her home, peering out into the night with a growing sense of unease. Bofur had been gone too long. Her heart pounded as she searched the darkness, hoping to see him return with the herbs they so desperately needed.
Suddenly, from the shadows above, a hunter orc dropped down, landing silently behind her. The creature's presence struck her with an instinctive terror, and before she could react, the orc lunged.
She screamed, staggering back in shock. More hunter orcs swarmed up the walls and across the rooftop, their hideous forms moving with terrifying speed.
Inside the house, Bain, Tilda, and the dwarves heard the commotion. The orcs were breaking in, crashing through doors and windows with deadly intent. The house shook with the force of their attack.
Tilda, her heart racing, bolted toward the unconscious form of (Y/n). The young girl gripped the warrior's arm and shook it violently.
"Help! Help us!" Tilda pleaded, her voice full of fear.
Suddenly, (Y/n)'s eyes snapped open.
They burned with an unnatural light—the fiery glow of Sauron's influence still searing through her. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and for a moment, she lay still, her face darkening with anger. Then, as if unleashed by a force beyond her control, she rose, her body surging with a violent energy.
Her transformation was brutal. The orcs charged toward her, but (Y/n) met them with unmatched ferocity. She tore through the first one with savage precision, her blade cutting through flesh and bone like it was nothing. The second orc's head was slammed into the wall with such force that the stone cracked beneath the impact. Blood spattered across the floor as (Y/n) spun, her blade slicing through the next orc's throat with cold, deadly efficiency.
Her eyes still burned with the fire of dark magic, and her movements were filled with a brutal, relentless power. Each strike was merciless, each kill a testament to the terrifying strength coursing through her veins. The orcs tried to fight back, but (Y/n) was a whirlwind of death, her strikes leaving no room for survival.
She grabbed one orc by the throat, lifting him off the ground with ease before slamming him down onto the floor, shattering his spine with a sickening crunch. The others fell to her sword, their bodies collapsing in heaps as she tore through them with terrifying precision.
In the midst of the chaos, the front door burst open, and Legolas and Tauriel entered the fray. With swift, practiced movements, they joined the battle. The elven prince's twin blades flashed through the air, cutting down orcs with graceful precision, while Tauriel's arrows found their marks with lethal accuracy.
But even as they fought, Legolas caught sight of (Y/n). Her aura was dark, her face a mask of cold ruthlessness. The mercy that once tempered her actions was gone, replaced by a savage, relentless fury. Her every strike was filled with an unnatural rage, leaving behind nothing but death and destruction.
Legolas paused, watching as she decimated the remaining orcs with a brutality he had not seen in her for a very very long time. She was not the same (Y/n) he had known—something darker had taken hold of her.
Bolg's orcs fell one by one, their bodies littering the ground as (Y/n), Legolas, and Tauriel fought with unmatched skill. Bain, Sigrid, and Tilda watched in stunned silence as (Y/n) tore through the remaining orcs, her blade flashing in the moonlight.
"You killed them all," Bain whispered, his voice filled with awe.
Legolas, his expression grave, shook his head. "Not all. There are others."
The battle had ended, but the air was thick with tension. Legolas turned to (Y/n), watching her as she stood doubled over, her breath heavy and labored. Slowly, as the battle haze faded, her eyes returned to normal, the fiery glow dimming. She stood tall again, her breathing steady, but the darkness that had overtaken her still lingered in the air.
Without another word, Legolas moved toward the door, calling over his shoulder. "Tauriel, come."
Tauriel hesitated, her eyes drifting to Kili. The young dwarf lay on the floor, his breathing ragged and shallow. Dark veins of poison spread beneath his skin, and the sight of him stirred something deep within her.
Oin knelt beside Kili, his face etched with worry. "We're losing him," the old dwarf said anxiously.
Legolas called again from the doorway, but Tauriel couldn't tear her eyes from Kili. (Y/n), still weak from her previous state, saw the conflict in Tauriel's gaze and stepped forward, her voice quiet but determined.
"Help them," (Y/n) said, her voice strained. "I'll go."
Tauriel nodded, gratitude flashing in her eyes. The group watched as (Y/n) limped toward the door, her strength slowly returning with each step.
Just as she disappeared into the night, Bofur came charging up the stairs, breathless and clutching a bundle of herbs in his hands. His eyes widened when he saw Tauriel standing over Kili.
"Where have you been?!" Fili shouted. But Tauriel's eyes were fixed on the bundle in his hands.
"Athelas..." she whispered, recognizing the plant immediately.
Bofur blinked in confusion. "What are you doing?"
Tauriel stepped forward, her fingers reaching out to take the plant from him. "I'm going to save him," she said quietly, her voice filled with a mix of hope and fear as she stared down at Kili.
YOU ARE READING
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...
