Lonely Dragon {Legolas x Reader}

The Paths of Moria

The Fellowship moved carefully, their footsteps muffled as they traversed a narrow, weathered bridge suspended over a chasm so deep that none could see the bottom. (Y/n) kept a hand on the hilt of her sword, her gaze wary as she glanced into the shadows that loomed just beyond the bridge's edge.

"Quietly now," Gandalf murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. "It's a four-day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence will go unnoticed."

They pressed on in silence, each step leading them further into the heart of the mines. The deeper they went, the more palpable the sense of foreboding grew. Dark corridors stretched endlessly around them, their walls marred by goblin graffiti and streaks of dried blood, likely dwarven. Skeletal remains littered the floor, a somber reminder of the horrors that had once consumed this place.

(Y/n) cast a glance at Legolas, her brow furrowing. He returned her gaze, his elven senses sharp and alert. With a brief but reassuring nod, he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as they continued through the unsettling silence.

The Fellowship arrived at a cavern where the path split into three tunnels, each disappearing into pitch darkness. Gandalf halted, frowning as he studied the paths.

He sighed heavily, "I have no memory of this place."

The group settled down, some anxiously watching as Gandalf sat, deep in thought, staring at the three tunnel mouths. Frodo stayed near the wizard, his eyes flitting nervously into the dark. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional, restless shuffle of feet. Pippin's stomach grumbled audibly, earning a quick elbow from Merry.

Merry chuckled, leaning closer. "Shhh, Pippin! Gandalf's thinking."

"Well, I can't help it," Pippin muttered, casting a glance at the wizard before sighing. "I'm hungry."

Frodo shifted, his gaze drawn down the tunnel behind them. A flicker of movement caught his eye—a shadow shifting in the darkness, darting quickly out of sight. He stiffened, inching closer to Gandalf.

"Gandalf," he whispered, "there's something down there."

Gandalf's voice was low, yet certain. "It's Gollum."

Frodo's eyes widened in disbelief. "Gollum? He's been following us?"

"For three days now," Gandalf confirmed.

"He escaped?" Frodo asked in shock.

(Y/n), listening intently from where she rested beside Legolas, added, "Escaped...or was set loose. The Ring has drawn him to us—he will never be rid of his need for it." Her gaze darkened. "He hates and loves the Ring, as he hates and loves himself. Smeagol's life is a sad story."

Gandalf nodded, catching the look of surprise on Frodo's face. "Yes, Smeagol he was once called...before the Ring took hold of him and drove him mad."

Satisfied that Gandalf and Frodo were deep in conversation, (Y/n) shifted back, nestling beside Legolas as she joined Merry and Pippin, who were doing their best to keep their spirits up despite the eerie atmosphere. Merry passed her a small piece of dried fruit he'd been saving, which she took gratefully, biting back a smile at his generosity.

"Thank you, Master Brandybuck," she murmured.

Merry grinned, pleased. "It's just Merry, really. But you're welcome."

Pippin, ever curious, looked at her with wide eyes. "So, what's it like, where you're from? Dracagoth, I mean."

"It's...different," she replied, a warmth entering her voice. "My people are close-knit. Loyal. And the land is quite beautiful—a bit like Rivendell in some ways, with waterfalls and soaring cliffs, but wilder." She chuckled softly, glancing at Legolas. "And much less calm than Mirkwood."

At this, Legolas gave a small smile, brushing a stray strand of her hair back. "Not a day passes without some form of mischief or adventure," he added, his tone affectionate.

(Y/n) nodded, closing her eyes briefly as she leaned her head on his shoulder, seeking a moment's peace in his presence. She could feel the weight of the journey bearing down on her, yet the presence of her companions eased her burdens, if only slightly.

Meanwhile, Gandalf and Frodo continued speaking in hushed voices.

"I wish the Ring had never come to me," Frodo murmured, his voice laced with regret. "I wish none of this had happened."

Gandalf turned, glancing over at (Y/n) before looking back to Frodo. "So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."

Frodo's gaze drifted to (Y/n) as well, watching her quietly as she shared a rare moment of lightheartedness with Merry and Pippin. He was still awestruck by her—their savior, who had saved his life more than once already and journeyed on to help him fulfill a task she knew would lead to unimaginable danger. There was strength in her that seemed beyond mortal capability, but he could see the toll this journey was taking on her, too.

As if sensing Frodo's thoughts, Gandalf continued, "There are other forces at work in this world, Frodo, besides the will of evil." He smiled softly, as if reflecting on some inner wisdom. "Bilbo was meant to find the Ring. And in the same way, you were meant to bear it. And that, my dear boy, is a most encouraging thought."

Suddenly, Gandalf perked up, glancing at the air as if it had revealed the way forward to him.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, his eyes bright. "It's that way!" He pointed toward the right-hand tunnel, rising swiftly to his feet.

Merry let out a sigh of relief, scrambling to his feet with Pippin close behind. "He's remembered!" he said, grinning with unmistakable relief.

Gandalf gave him a knowing smile. "No, Meriadoc, but the air doesn't smell quite as foul down there. If in doubt," he added with a glimmer of humor, "always follow your nose."

With renewed energy, the Fellowship gathered their things, following Gandalf down the dimly lit path, their minds eased for a moment in the heart of the ancient dwarven kingdom.