Lonely Dragon {Legolas x Reader}

Vulnerability

The Laketown camp was a hive of restless energy. Despite the exhaustion hanging over the survivors, they moved with purpose, packing supplies and preparing for the long march ahead. Bard's people, worn from loss and fear, had no choice but to leave the charred remains of their home behind. The Lonely Mountain loomed in the distance, its promise of shelter and safety drawing them forward.

Among the chaos, Tauriel and Legolas strode purposefully through the camp, their eyes sharp and alert. The weight of something unspoken hung between them, but neither had voiced it yet.

Tauriel's gaze flickered toward Legolas, her keen sense attuned to his tension. "You saw something out there."

Legolas didn't stop walking, but his voice was low and grave. "The orc I pursued out of Laketown—I know who he is. Bolg—a spawn of Azog the Defiler."

Tauriel turned sharply to him, her brow furrowed. Azog's name still sent a chill through her, a reminder of the threat looming over Middle-earth.

"A warg pack was waiting for him on the outskirts of Esgaroth," Legolas continued, his eyes scanning the horizon as if expecting danger to emerge from the shadows at any moment. "They fled into the north. These orcs were different from the others. They wore a mark I had not seen for a long time."

Tauriel paused, sensing the gravity of his words before he even spoke them.

"The mark of Gundabad."

Tauriel stopped in her tracks, her heart skipping a beat. "Gundabad?" she whispered, shock evident in her voice. Her eyes searched Legolas's face, hoping he was mistaken.

Legolas nodded, his face grim. "An orc-stronghold in the far north of the Misty Mountains."

Her mind raced. Gundabad was a name of ancient dread, a place from which dark forces had once risen. If Bolg had returned there, it could only mean one thing—war was coming, and it would not be fought by Laketown alone.

Before they could discuss it further, an elf from Mirkwood rode up to them on horseback, his steed galloping to a sudden stop in front of Legolas. He dismounted swiftly and bowed.

"My Lord, Legolas," the elf greeted. "I bring word from your father."

Legolas's brow furrowed, knowing what would come next.

 "You are to return to him immediately."

Legolas remained still for a moment, his heart conflicted. His father, Thranduil, had called for him, likely unaware of the growing threat that Legolas and Tauriel had witnessed. He turned to Tauriel, his decision already made. "Come, Tauriel."

But the elven messenger shifted uncomfortably. "My Lord," he began, hesitating, "Tauriel is banished."

Legolas stiffened, his blue eyes narrowing. "Banished?" His voice was incredulous. 

Both Legolas and Tauriel stared at the elf in shock. The weight of Thranduil's judgment struck them both—Tauriel, loyal to the realm yet defiant, was no longer welcome in Mirkwood.

The elf messenger shifted uncomfortably under Legolas's gaze. Tauriel remained silent, her face a mask of stoic acceptance, though a flicker of hurt crossed her eyes.

Legolas straightened, defiance flashing across his face. "You may tell my father: If there is no place for Tauriel, there is no place for me."

Tauriel's eyes widened in alarm. "Legolas," she whispered, stepping forward, her voice pleading. "It is your King's command."

"Yes," Legolas replied, his voice softening, though his resolve remained unshaken. "He is my King. But he does not command my heart."

With that, Legolas turned on his heel and strode away from the elven messenger, his mind already made up. Tauriel watched him, torn between duty and the bonds they shared.