The wind was sharp and cold as Legolas and Tauriel made their way up the rocky outcrop, their cloaks flapping behind them like dark banners. The steep ascent didn't slow their progress; they moved swiftly, elven grace allowing them to scale the jagged rocks with practised ease. At the top, they crouched behind a cluster of boulders, their keen eyes scanning the landscape ahead.
Gundabad loomed before them, a dark fortress rising from the mountain like a scar. Its black walls were jagged and foreboding, stained by the centuries of war and dark magic that had marked this cursed place. The air itself felt heavy, oppressive, as though the land remembered every battle, every drop of blood that had been spilled here.
Tauriel's eyes narrowed as she took in the sight. The fortress seemed to pulse with an ancient evil, a darkness that stirred something deep within her. She leaned closer to Legolas, her voice barely a whisper.
"Gundabad," she said. "What lies beyond?"
Legolas's face was impassive, but his eyes were distant, as though the sight of the fortress had drawn him back through the years. When he spoke, his voice was laced with both knowledge and a deep, lingering sorrow.
"An old enemy. The ancient kingdom of Angmar," Legolas replied. "This fortress was once its stronghold. It is where they kept their great armouries, forged their weapons of war. Angmar's might was built here, fueled by Sauron's corruption."
Tauriel's gaze flicked to him. She could hear the weight in his words, feel the pain that lingered behind his calm exterior. Before she could ask more, a flicker of light caught her eye. Her head snapped toward the window of the fortress.
"A light!" she whispered urgently. "I saw movement."
Legolas didn't move immediately, but his eyes followed hers. He saw it too—a faint glow in the gloom of Gundabad's walls. His expression darkened.
"We wait for the cover of night," Legolas said softly. His eyes lingered on the fortress for a moment longer before he turned back to her, his voice lowering. "It is a fell place, Tauriel. In another age, our people waged war on these lands. My mother... she died there."
Tauriel's breath caught. She hadn't known. The sadness in his voice was unmistakable now, and the silence between them felt sacred, heavy with the weight of what was unsaid. Legolas rarely spoke of his mother—Thranduil's loss had always been a closed chapter in their history, one seldom mentioned in the halls of Mirkwood.
"My father does not speak of it," Legolas continued, his voice quieter now, as if speaking too loudly might give life to the memories he wished to keep buried. "There is no grave, no memory, nothing."
Tauriel, sensing that this admission was more than just a recounting of the past, turned toward him. She had always admired his strength, his unyielding sense of duty, but in this moment, he seemed vulnerable. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice filled with quiet compassion.
But Legolas wasn't finished. His eyes, still fixed on the fortress, grew distant once more as a new, darker memory came to the surface.
"(Y/n)'s mother died there, too," he said after a long pause. "They fought side by side. In rebellion against Sauron himself."
Tauriel's eyes widened. (Y/n) was a formidable warrior, but she had never spoken of her mother—of her past, really—except in brief, guarded moments. Tauriel had always sensed that (Y/n) carried a great burden, but she had never known how deep it went.
"How so?" Tauriel asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid of disturbing the fragile story that was beginning to unfold.
Legolas's jaw tightened, and he spoke slowly, as though the words pained him. "Legend has it..."
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Thousands of years ago, long before the current age, the lands that lay beneath Gundabad had been a battlefield of fire and shadow. The rebellion against Sauron had raged on, and in the heart of that struggle stood (Y/n) and her mother, leaders among their people, the Dracagoth. They were not mere soldiers, but warriors forged by centuries of battle, their bond to dragons and their ancient magic making them a formidable force.
The air had been thick with the cries of war, the ground soaked with the blood of elves and orcs alike. Elven and Dracagoth forces fought side by side in defiance of Sauron's dominion, their ranks bolstered by their united hatred of the Dark Lord. (Y/n), her armour dark as night, led the charge with her mother beside her, their blades flashing in the dim light as they cut through the enemy with precision and fury.
(Y/n)'s mother, a legendary warrior in her own right, was as graceful as she was deadly. Her movements were swift, fluid, a dance of death on the battlefield. Together, they were unstoppable.
But then, the tide of the battle shifted. Sauron's forces, driven by malice and dark magic, surged forward with a ferocity that caught the elven alliance off guard. The sky had darkened, and from the fortress of Gundabad, a host of wraiths descended upon the battlefield, their shrieks piercing the air as they cut through the ranks of the elves and Dracagoth.
Amidst the chaos, (Y/n) had been separated from her mother. She fought on, her heart pounding in her chest, her every thought consumed with the need to find her. But it was too late. As the wraiths descended, (Y/n) spotted her mother—surrounded, outnumbered.
She screamed out, her voice lost in the cacophony of war. But before she could reach her, the orcs and wraiths struck her mother down.
(Y/n)'s world went silent. A deep, dark fury began to rise within her, one that she had never known before. It consumed her, driving out all reason, all thought. Her vision turned red, and she became a force of pure, unrelenting rage.
She fought with a terrifying, almost unnatural strength, her blades cutting through Sauron's forces as if they were nothing more than shadows. The elven soldiers who remained watched in awe and horror as (Y/n) tore through the battlefield, her movements no longer those of a warrior, but of a storm.
The darkness inside her was all-consuming, and when she finally came to, the battlefield was silent. All that remained was blood, ash, and the bodies of the fallen.
(Y/n) stood alone in the desolation. The wraiths were gone, the orcs slaughtered, but so were the elves, her own people—everyone. The ground was littered with the dead, friend and foe alike. She had destroyed them all.
And then she saw her mother's body.
(Y/n) dropped to her knees, pulling her mother into her arms, her grief erupting in a primal scream that echoed through the valley. Her tears fell, mixing with the blood that soaked the earth. The victory she had sought—freedom from Sauron's tyranny—had come at the cost of everything she loved.
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Legolas's voice was low, thick with the weight of the tale. "When she came to, there was only blood and ash. The battle had ended with her. It was my father that found her"
Tauriel stared at him in stunned silence, her heart heavy with the knowledge. She had always sensed that (Y/n) carried a deep sorrow within her, but this—this was a wound beyond healing. A grief that had shaped her entire existence.
"She found her mother's body," Legolas continued, his voice barely audible. "And she wept. She has never forgiven herself for what happened that day."
Tauriel's gaze drifted back to the fortress ahead, the weight of the past pressing down on her. Gundabad was not just a place of evil—it was a graveyard of memories, a place where (Y/n)'s heart had been shattered beyond repair.
"And now," Tauriel whispered, "she fights because she knows no other way."
Legolas nodded, his expression grim. "And now, she carries that pain into every battle, every decision."
The silence between them stretched on as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the rocky terrain. Gundabad loomed before them, dark and silent, but the memories of that ancient battle seemed to stir in the air, haunting them both.
As the night crept closer, they waited for the cover of darkness, knowing that whatever lay ahead in Gundabad would not just be a confrontation with the enemy—but with the ghosts of their pasts.
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...
