As Smaug's massive body crashed to the earth, the ground itself seemed to shake. His final, deafening roar of pain reverberated across the land, carrying far beyond the burning remains of Laketown. The dwarves, standing high on the slopes of the Lonely Mountain, felt the impact deep in their bones. They jumped to their feet, startled by the distant sound.
Ori, ever vigilant, squinted toward the horizon. "What was that? What happened?"
Bilbo, still gazing out over the early morning light, could hardly believe what he had seen. He blinked, struggling to process the enormity of the moment.
"It fell," Bilbo whispered, his voice thick with awe. "I saw it. Smaug is dead."
The others rushed to the edge of their lookout, peering down at the smouldering wreckage of Laketown. The faint silhouette of the dragon lay motionless in the distance.
Gloin's eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. "By my beard! I think he's right! Look there!" He pointed toward the sky, where several dark shapes circled overhead. "The ravens of Erebor are returning to the mountain!"
The ravens cawed as they flew, their dark wings cutting through the morning mist, a sure sign that the reign of the dragon was over.
Dwalin nodded solemnly. "Aye—word will spread. Before long, every soul in Middle-earth will know—the dragon is dead!"
Laughter and relief spread among the dwarves, their spirits lifting for the first time in what felt like an age. The weight of fear and despair, which had hung heavy over them since the dragon's awakening, began to ease. Thorin, however, stood apart from the group. He gazed not at Laketown, but at the Lonely Mountain itself, his eyes fixed on its ancient gates. His expression was strange—happiness, yes, but it was tinged with something darker. Possession. His heart and mind were already turning toward the treasure within.
Without a word, Thorin turned and hurried down from the lookout point, making his way toward the gates of Erebor.
But just as Thorin began his descent, a sudden, bone-chilling scream reached their ears. It was unlike any sound they had heard before—an anguished roar, raw and primal, filled with sorrow and fury. The laughter among the dwarves died instantly as they froze in place, listening in shock.
"What... what is that?" Bilbo whispered, his voice trembling.
The sound carried up from the shores of the lake, where the wreckage of Laketown smouldered in the early morning light. The scream echoed through the mountains, so powerful and full of grief that even the air seemed to vibrate with it. It was (Y/n).
Down on the shore, the aftermath of Smaug's attack was a scene of devastation. The banks were littered with debris, broken wood, and bodies—some dead, some barely clinging to life. Fires still burned on pieces of wreckage that had washed ashore, and the cries of the survivors filled the smoke-filled air. Screaming, weeping, the people of Laketown stumbled through the wreckage, searching for loved ones, pulling bodies from the cold water, and salvaging what little they could.
The cries of the wounded and the mourning filled the air. Some survivors, numb with shock, dragged their loved ones from the water, while others wandered aimlessly, searching for missing family members in the chaos.
Alfrid, drenched and terrified, emerged from the lake, clambering over debris with little dignity. "Will somebody help me? HELP!" he wailed, his eyes wild with fear. Crawling over what he thought was a lifeless body, Alfrid yelped as the man groaned beneath him, still clinging to life. Screaming in horror, Alfrid rolled off him and splashed back into the water, shouting incoherently for help as he scrambled onto the shore.
Among the refugees, Tauriel walked swiftly, her eyes scanning the faces of the survivors, searching. "Da!" Sigrid called out, her voice desperate as she and Tilda searched for their father.
"DA!" Tilda echoed, her small voice filled with fear.
The cries of the children mixed with the general chaos around them, but Bard was nowhere to be found. Tauriel's sharp elven gaze roamed over the scene, her heart heavy with worry. Around her, survivors were beginning to gather whatever supplies they could salvage, some aiding the wounded while others mourned the dead.
Nearby, the dwarves Oin, Bofur, and Fili had found a boat and were pushing it into the water, preparing to set off toward safety. Kili stood apart from them, his eyes fixed on Tauriel. His heart raced as he approached her, his face filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability.
"Tauriel," Kili began, his voice soft but urgent.
Fili called out to him from the boat. "Kili, come on! We're leaving!"
But Kili couldn't leave. Not yet. Tauriel turned to him, her expression conflicted. She had just helped save his life, but now they stood on the precipice of parting.
"They are your people," she said, her voice both sad and guarded. "You must go."
For a moment, Kili stood still, torn between his duty to his people and the connection he felt with her. He swallowed hard, then blurted out, "Come with me. I know how I feel; I'm not afraid. You make me feel alive."
Tauriel turned her head away, pain flickering across her face. "I can't," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the noise around them.
Desperate, Kili reached out, grabbing her arm gently but firmly. In a low voice, he spoke in Dwarvish, his words filled with emotion. "Tauriel, amralime."
Tauriel looked at him in shock. She wasn't fluent in the language of the dwarves, but the meaning behind his words was unmistakable.
"I don't know what that means," she said, her voice betraying her inner turmoil.
But Kili smiled, his eyes soft with affection. "I think you do."
For a brief moment, they leaned toward each other, the tension between them shifting into something tender. But just as their lips nearly touched, Tauriel straightened abruptly, her senses alert. She could feel the presence of another approaching. She turned, her expression now neutral, as she addressed Legolas, who had silently arrived behind her.
"My lord, Legolas," Tauriel said, her voice formal, though her eyes still held traces of emotion.
Kili's face hardened as he looked at Legolas with distrust, his feelings for Tauriel clear in his gaze.
Legolas, however, barely spared Kili a glance. His words were directed to Tauriel, and there was a subtle command in them. "Take your leave of the dwarf," he said, his tone firm. " You are needed elsewhere."
Torn between her duty and her heart, Tauriel glanced back at Kili. For a moment, it seemed as though she might stay. But then, with a heavy heart, she turned away, moving to follow Legolas.
As she walked away, Kili stood motionless, his heart breaking. But then something shifted within him. He couldn't let her leave like this. He rushed forward, catching her hand in his. Gently, he placed the black stone in her palm, curling her fingers around it.
"Keep it," Kili whispered, his face inches from hers. "As a promise."
Their eyes locked for a long moment, and in that brief exchange, they both knew what was unspoken. With one last glance, Kili turned and ran back toward the boat, leaving Tauriel standing there, clutching the stone in her hand, her emotions swirling.
Legolas watched the exchange in silence, his expression unreadable. He stepped closer to Tauriel, his eyes flicking toward the devastation in the distance.
Legolas, sensing her turmoil, stepped closer. His eyes drifted to the distant ruins of Laketown, where smoke still rose from the destruction.
"Where is (Y/n)?" he asked, his voice low.
Tauriel looked around, her heart sinking. "She... she stayed in town," she replied, her voice filled with guilt.
Legolas's gaze followed hers, his expression sombre as he surveyed the wreckage.
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...
