A few days into their journey, Shadow and her companions found themselves unexpectedly detained by the Wood Elves of Mirkwood. Shadow, while not thrilled about the delay, understood the Elves' desire to protect their land from any potential danger. However, this unforeseen setback would certainly put a significant strain on their already tight schedule.

Suddenly, an Elven attendant appeared in the chamber, offering Shadow a platter of fish. Shadow graciously accepted the offering, consuming the meal in silence. Alongside the fish, the attendant provided a goblet filled with the finest wine from the Elven king's cellar. Though not particularly fond of wine, Shadow decided to make the most of the gesture and gratefully indulged in the drink.

After relaxing a little, Shadow finished her drink and put down her mug and snacks. She leaned back and let herself sink into the plushness of the bed - the elven comfort level was no joke. The elven waiter took her empty plates and left, leaving her alone in her private relaxation zone.

The Shadow lay quietly in bed, staring up at the ceiling for an eternity before a sound caught her attention - an elven horn in the distance. It made her stand up, and she got an adrenaline rush as she wrapped herself in a cloak to investigate the commotion at the water gates. It seemed her dwarves had managed to escape, thanks to Bilbo. Pride shot through her and she allowed herself a sly grin before rolling out of bed, ready for action.

Just as she was about to tumble out of her room, a tall elf guard blocked her path. "Ma'am, you can't go out without the king's permission," he said sternly and officially.

Shadow considered the guard - there was something friendly about his posture, but the visor hid most of his face, leaving only his eyes visible. She sighed softly, trying to be diplomatic. "You must be aware that I am under Thranduil's own esteem - I am a rare guest of honor. Please step aside, thank you." Her voice had the gentle firmness of one accustomed to respect, combined with a subtle nudge of authority that she hoped he would recognize and heed.

The guard remained steadfast, unswayed by Shadow's request. "I am sorry, ma'am, but orders are orders," he said with a polite but firm refusal.

"Of course," Shadow replied, her mind racing as she retreated a few paces, giving the impression of conceding. She gave the guard a knowing look, a ploy of understanding as she half-turned towards the window. "I see you're just doing your job..."

Without another warning, she lunged at the guard, the force of her attack sending him tumbling to the ground. As the man lay dazed, a dark shadow transformed into a formidable black dragon which reared up from him with a rumbling chuckle, dark amusement clear in its tone.

Taking advantage of the confusion, she sprinted down the hallway, weaving through the archery range, and burst through the slightly ajar gate. She threw herself out towards the river that ran through the elven garden, leaping into the air, her wings unfurling with majestic grace.

As she soared, circling above her dwarven friends who were floating towards the sea gate, a surprise snare tightened around her. Sharp, heavy ropes bound her wings, pulling her down with a violent jolt. Shadow couldn't stifle the scream that erupted from her as the orcish ropes—infused with deadly nightshade, a substance lethal to dragons—wounded her.

A vicious orc stood over her with a self-satisfied grin, his yellow teeth bared. With a menacing thrust of his spear, he sneered, "You'll make a fine plaything for my commander. He'll enjoy breaking you, little darkspawn."

With a cry of defiance, Shadow unleashed her fiery might—a purple inferno condensed into a deadly orb—straight at the orc's hideous face. His death cry was drowned by the sizzle of singeing flesh as he collapsed, another victim of the Night Fury's wrath.

Shadow, still embroiled in battle fury, heard the distant calls of her companions, promising her rescue. But the ropes were unforgiving, the nightshade's toxin seeping into her wounds, corrupting her strength, her eyes burning with purple tainted blood.

"Stay still," a calm voice commanded, cutting through the chaos. Looking up, Shadow's gaze met that of Legolas, the Prince of the Woodland Realm, kneeling by her side with a gleaming dagger in hand. His expression was intense yet focused, his intentions unreadable, but there was a chance he might yet prove ally rather than foe.

Shadow couldn't help but notice Legolas's act of defiance against his father's will. She growled a remark, but hushed up as he carefully sliced through the ropes binding her—obviously trying to prevent the nightshade from seeping further into her. Throughout the ordeal, he remained silent, focused solely on his task.

"You should go after your friends," Legolas finally said once she was no longer constrained. Standing aside, he watched as Shadow reached for her attire, her sleek form now alight with a cool, golden glow. Divine energy engulfed her, seeping into her veins, mending the damage wrought by the orcish ropes.

She allowed herself a prolonged sigh, her tail giving a contented flick—the wounds now just echoes of pain, disappearing without a trace.

"Thank you for your assistance, Legolas," she purred appreciatively, offering a nod that held more gratitude than any words could convey. With no further ado, she launched herself into the sky, vanishing into the expanse in search of her companions.

Legolas remained beneath, watching the sky where she had disappeared, his expression unreadable. At that moment, Tauriel approached him, concern etching her features. "Why didn't you confine her to the chambers?" she queried, curiosity lacing her tone.

"She does not belong caged in our halls, Tauriel. My father's fear and insecurity serve no purpose here," Legolas responded with a note of finality in his voice, his gaze still lingering on the sky. With a subtle shake of his head, he walked away from the scene, a clear sign that his allegiance might be more complex than anyone had presumed. Tauriel let out a sigh but followed her prince, her loyalty unwavering even as the pieces of this unfolding tale of Middle-earth remained in flux.