A/N: One of my favourite scenes in the film, I couldn't not...
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Dain and his surviving dwarves formed a desperate shield wall at the gates of Erebor, their defences strained as the orc army assembled in tight ranks before them. The pounding of war drums echoed across the battlefield, and the snarls of trolls could be heard as they pushed their way to the front of the orc lines. Tension rippled through the air as both armies stood on the verge of a brutal clash.
Azog, watching from his hilltop, raised his hand, halting the orc advance. His cold, pale eyes scanned the battlefield as he growled his next command.
"Not yet...wait," Azog said in his guttural voice, the words heavy with malice.
The trolls stomped into position, their massive, armoured forms looming over the orc ranks. The tension in the air grew unbearable, and then, with a sudden, savage grin, Azog gave the final order.
"Attack...now!"
The orc signal horn blared, and the horde surged forward with a terrible roar. The earth shook as the massive trolls led the charge, their enormous feet pounding the ground as they barreled toward the dwarven defences.
But before the clash could happen, another sound pierced the chaos—a horn, loud and triumphant, echoing from the walls of Erebor.
Bilbo, standing alongside Gandalf in Dale, froze as the sound reached his ears. His heart leapt in hope.
"Thorin!" Bilbo shouted, his voice filled with relief.
From within the barricaded gates of Erebor, the great golden statue that the dwarves had crafted was released, smashing outward and breaking through the rock barrier with a thunderous crash. The massive golden form created a bridge across the moat, allowing Thorin and his company to charge out, their battle cries fierce and filled with vengeance.
Azog's eyes widened in shock as he saw Thorin, the rightful King Under the Mountain, leading his company through the ranks of Dain's dwarves. They fought with a renewed fury, cutting down orcs as they advanced toward the front lines.
Dain, seeing Thorin emerge, bellowed to his troops, "TO THE KING! TO THE KING!"
Thorin's voice rang out above the din of battle as he shouted, "To arms!" With renewed vigour, the dwarves smashed into the orc ranks, their pent-up anger unleashed in a furious tide.
In Dale, Bilbo and Gandalf watched from an abandoned causeway, their eyes fixed on the plains below.
"The dwarves!" Bilbo exclaimed, pointing. "They're rallying!"
Gandalf nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "They are rallying to their king."
The sight of Thorin and his company leading the charge seemed to reinvigorate not just the dwarves, but everyone on the battlefield. Bard, now fighting alongside his remaining men, turned to rally his troops.
"Any man who wants to give their last—follow me!" Bard cried, leading his soldiers with renewed hope. They clashed with the orcs, fighting with reckless abandon now that the dwarves were pressing forward once again.
On the battlefield, Thorin fought with ferocity, cutting down orcs as he moved. Spotting Dain nearby, he called out to him.
"Dain!"
Dain, headbutting an orc and swinging his hammer with deadly accuracy, turned at the sound of his cousin's voice. "Thorin!" he shouted, grinning despite the chaos.
The two dwarves fought their way toward each other, smashing orcs aside with every step. When they finally met, they shared a brief but powerful embrace.
"Hey, cousin!" Dain laughed. "What took you so long?!"
Thorin's eyes flashed with grim determination. "There are too many of these buggers," Dain continued, panting heavily. "I hope you've got a plan!"
Thorin looked up toward the distant hill where Azog's signalers stood. His gaze sharpened as he spotted the enemy leader.
"Aye," Thorin said, gripping his sword tightly. "We're going to take out their leader."
Dain's face darkened as he realised what Thorin meant. "Azog..." he muttered.
Without another word, Thorin strode forward, mounting one of the great battle goats brought by Dain's army. He looked back at his closest warriors—Dwalin, Fili, and Kili—each of them ready to follow him.
"I'm gonna kill that piece of filth," Thorin growled as he spurred his goat forward.
The four dwarves—Thorin, Dwalin, Fili, and Kili—charged toward Azog's hill, smashing through the orc ranks with relentless determination.
"Lead on!" Dwalin roared as they cut a path through the battlefield.
Back in Dale, Gandalf watched as human spearmen and archers took down a massive troll, their strikes coordinated and precise. Despite the chaos, a glimmer of hope remained.
"We may yet survive this," Gandalf murmured to himself.
Suddenly, Bilbo called out in panic. "GANDALF!"
Gandalf turned just in time to strike down an orc with his staff before hurrying over to where Bilbo stood. The hobbit was pointing toward the mountain, where Thorin and his company were riding up a rocky spur.
"It's Thorin!" Bilbo said, his voice filled with both awe and worry.
"And Fili, Kili...and Dwalin. He's taking his best warriors!" Gandalf's brow furrowed as he watched them ride toward Ravenhill.
"To do what?" Bilbo asked, fear creeping into his voice.
"To cut the head off the snake," Gandalf replied, his eyes narrowing as he saw Azog standing atop the hill, waiting for them.
Suddenly, Legolas and Tauriel charged into Dale on horseback, cutting through the orcs as they rode. They arrived breathlessly at Gandalf's side.
"Legolas!" Gandalf called, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the elf prince. "Legolas Greenleaf!"
Legolas dismounted swiftly, his face grave. "There is a second army!" he said urgently. "Bolg leads a force of Gundabad orcs. They are almost upon us!"
Gandalf's expression turned grim. "Gundabad..." he muttered. "This was their plan all along. Azog engages our forces here, and Bolg seeps in from the north."
Bilbo, wide-eyed, asked frantically, "Wha...the north? Where is the north, exactly?!"
Gandalf turned to face the northern hills, his gaze landing on Ravenhill. "Ravenhill."
Bilbo's heart sank as realisation dawned on him. "Ravenhill... Thorin is up there! And Fili and Kili—they're all up there!"
At the mention of Kili's name, Tauriel's face paled, her eyes widening with fear. She looked out toward the distant peak of Ravenhill, now shrouded in mist, her heart racing with dread.
But amidst the panic, Bilbo gripped the Ring in his pocket, tapping it three times once again, as if reassuring himself of something deeper.
"She's coming," Bilbo whispered to himself, his voice barely audible but filled with quiet certainty. "I know she's coming."
Gandalf, who had been observing Bilbo closely, caught the hobbit's words. He shared a knowing glance with Legolas, a flicker of relief passing between them. They both knew who Bilbo meant.
"(Y/n)," Gandalf said softly, his voice full of hope. The wizard's expression lightened, knowing the Dracagoth and their queen were nearing. Reinforcements were on their way. And perhaps, just perhaps, the tide of this battle would turn.
For now, all eyes turned to Ravenhill, where the fate of the battle—and the future of Middle-earth—hung in the balance.
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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...
