Lonely Dragon {Legolas x Reader}

A Night to Remember

The night sky above the Shire was alive with colour. Fireworks exploded in dazzling displays, sending sparks raining down on the delighted hobbits who filled the fields below. The Great Party was well underway, and laughter, music, and the clink of tankards filled the air. It was a perfect evening—one that promised to live up to Bilbo Baggins' reputation for hosting the most legendary parties in the Shire.

(Y/n), standing at the edge of the celebration, looked out across the sea of hobbits with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. The sight of the joyful Shirefolk never failed to lift her spirits. She watched as Gandalf hurried about, lighting the fireworks with the glowing tip of his staff, delighting the crowd. He had always been the perfect mix of showman and wizard, blending awe with amusement.

The joy in the air was infectious, and, of course, being at Bilbo's party was a welcome change from the weight she'd been carrying lately—the growing darkness in her mind that whispered of old wounds, ones that still hadn't healed, despite the years.

Suddenly, a BOOM echoed across the sky, and (Y/n) glanced up to see one of Gandalf's fireworks erupt in the shape of a great tree, its branches unfolding with shimmering green leaves. Hobbits gasped, their faces alight with wonder as the glowing flowers bloomed and fell gently to the ground, evaporating just above their heads.

"Still a master at this," she muttered to herself, admiring Gandalf's handiwork.

The field was alive with activity—144 hobbits feasting, dancing, and drinking. Tables were piled high with scones and savory pies, carts overflowing with ale and wine. The air was thick with merriment, and every hobbit was in the highest of spirits. Frodo and Sam sat at one of the tables, their mugs of ale in hand as they chatted. From where (Y/n) stood, she could see Frodo nudging Sam, his eyes playfully flicking toward Rosie Cotton sitting a few feet away.

"Go on, Sam, ask Rosie for a dance," Frodo encouraged, a grin on his face.

Sam, looking horrified at the mere suggestion, shook his head. "I think I'll just have another ale, if you don't mind, Mr. Frodo."

Frodo wasn't having any of it. With a laugh, he grabbed Sam's glass from his hand and thrust him into the middle of a passing group of dancers. Sam's panicked face was enough to make (Y/n) laugh softly to herself.

"Poor kid," she mused, watching the hobbit get swept away into the dance with an expression of terror mixed with delight. Frodo, sitting back down, finished Sam's ale with a chuckle.

Nearby, Bilbo was in his element, surrounded by a small group of wide-eyed hobbit children, eager to hear stories of his adventures. (Y/n) listened as he launched into one of his favorite tales—the one about the trolls.

"So there I was," Bilbo began, his voice full of dramatic flair, "at the mercy of three monstrous trolls—smelly things they were too—and they were arguing, arguing about how they were going to cook us!"

The children gasped, their faces alight with wonder and fear.

Bilbo continued, building the tension. "They couldn't decide if we'd be best turned on a spit or squashed into jelly!" He paused, watching the hobbit children's eyes grow wide. "But they spent so long arguing that the sun's first light crept over the top of the trees, and POOF—turned them all to stone!"

The children erupted into gasps and giggles, their astonishment matched only by Bilbo's mischievous smile. (Y/n) felt her heart swell at the sight, but beneath the joy, there was a pang of regret—she hadn't been there. Thorin had sent her away before they had encountered the trolls, but she had always wondered what would have happened if she'd stayed.

Bilbo, noticing her thoughtful expression from afar, gave her a quick wink before returning to his audience. She smiled back at him, knowing that despite everything, their friendship had never wavered.