Author's Note: This is my first published Lord of the Rings story. It is bookverse, and it is currently a work-in-progress. I will be posting updates twice a month. As always, I appreciate constructive criticism. I am still developing my voice for this genre-please read and review.

Disclaimer: Middle-earth belongs rightfully to JRR Tolkien.

Chapter 1: Of Dorwinion and Merrymaking

"But there was in Thranduil's heart a still deeper shadow. He had seen the horror of Mordor and could not forget it. If ever he looked south its memory dimmed the light of the Sun, and though he knew that it was now broken and deserted and under the vigilance of the Kings of Men, fear spoke in his heart that it was not conquered for ever: it would arise again."

-Unfinished Tales, Part 2: The 2nd Age, "Appendix B, The Sindarin Princes Of The Silvan Elves"

2063, Third Age of the Sun
North of Emyn Duir, South of the Elvenking's Halls

Legolas frowned as he looked again down the table to Mithrandir, who was seated to the left of the Elvenking at the very corner of the spread. Legolas himself sat three chairs across from and to the right of Mithrandir, two advisors between them. It had been at least a century since Legolas had seen Mithrandir in the Greenwood, and his father had not been pleased with Mithrandir's behavior in the interim and had made that well known. It seemed to Legolas that Mithrandir now studiously avoided Legolas' eyes whenever he considered him from his seat, while fully engaging with his father. To say Legolas, who admired the Istar, was confused by this behavior would be an understatement.

Legolas quit frowning and took a sip from his cup, sitting back in his chair as talk floated around him, and he passed on several bowls of greens and venison to the advisor to his right as he listened. It was a beautiful evening for merrymaking, and he was happy to be beneath the trees with kin rather than in the trees defending his kin, but he was having difficulty concentrating, nonetheless. So much had changed in the centuries since Legolas had begun working with the marchwardens and border patrols of Mirkwood, and to be home and sat in a clearing with lanterns all about and music in the warm summer air was almost unnerving. Legolas shivered in surprise as a breeze ruffled the trees and touched his bare arms, and he dropped a hand to his waist unconsciously to feel for his knife-he knew he had become too vigilant.

The advisor to Legolas' right raised a thick eyebrow at him as he felt Legolas's elbow brush his own while patting for his knife, and he nodded his chin toward the head of the table subtly with an admonishing "Pay attention, Legolas," before turning his own attention back to his king. Legolas quickly pulled his hand away from the reassuring presence of the blade and turned back toward his father; he flattened the embroidery on the sleeveless grey blouse he wore and tried to look as respectful as possible, and as if he had been listening to the entire conversation about that particular vintage of Dorwinion.

It was in that moment that Mithrandir finally caught Legolas' gaze and held it. "And what do you think, Greenleaf?"

Legolas flushed. He had not at all been paying attention, and Mithrandir definitely knew it. "What do I think?" he repeated back to him.

"Yes," Mithrandir said, lifting his glass and inclining his head to Legolas.

"I think that…" Legolas did not have an opinion on the wine, he realized. "Ai, I do not know."

Thranduil laughed and clapped Mithrandir on the shoulder. "What I think, Mithrandir, is that Legolas' attention has not been with us, for otherwise he would certainly have an opinion on the matter, as he has on everything."

Legolas flushed again, but did not look away from his father.

"Ah," said Mithrandir, "well, having opinions is certainly a trait of your line, Thranduil. You cannot blame him."

"I am sorry for my inattentiveness to you as our guest, Mithrandir," Legolas bowed his head slightly.

This time Mithrandir laughed. "You do not need to apologize for being yet young and, by the looks of it, tired! And besides, Legolas, you were also given the joy of being a Wood-elf, a distraction your father may never fully understand, and that is no fault of your own." He winked at Legolas and Legolas only stared back, not quite sure how to respond.

In that moment, an elf in a fitted rust-colored tunic flitted up to the table, bowing deeply. "My king," she said. Thranduil nodded to her to continue. "Would that I could borrow your son for the evening?"

Legolas swirled the wine around in his cup, trying to look disinterested. "For the evening, captain? After you have just returned him from his duties?"

"Not the whole evening, my king. Just long enough for some of our unit to celebrate together, for we are all hale."

Thranduil nodded. "That is well then, Lostariel. Legolas, you may leave."

Legolas pushed his chair back gently and stood bowing to those at the table. "My lords, Mithrandir."

Lostariel had now bounded over to him and clapped him on the shoulder, leaning close into his ear. "Enough of that." She picked up his wine cup and tugged on the braid that lay down his back. "Now take the last of this and we may be off."

Legolas would not argue with a command from a higher ranked officer, and he finished the cup in one deep gulp. Lostariel took the cup back from him and placed it on the table, grabbing him by the upper arm and pulling him away, laughingly.

"I have decided it is a good vintage, Mithrandir!" Legolas called over his shoulder, before Lostariel had tugged him into a dance in the middle of the clearing among many other elves and some from their own company. Then their faces were lost to Thranduil and the others in a swirl of laughter and many voices raised in song.

Mithrandir looked at Thranduil and raised an eyebrow.

"He is not like his brother," Thranduil said carefully.

"You mean, he is not a diplomat," Mithrandir supplied.

The advisor who had been beside Legolas sniffed. "He is not. There is a reason he works in the woods."

"The woods need diplomats, too, Master Thelion. And most diplomats are trained, not born. Legolas may serve you yet."

"Let us hope so," said Thranduil, turning back to the wine.

"He wonders, yet, why you do not speak to him of my visit, and why you have not included him in your chambers today while we had council," Mithrandir said.

"Legolas wonders this?" Thranduil asked.

"I sense that he is confused."

Thelion sniffed again and laughed, as if to say that is not unsual; Thranduil steadfastly ignored this.

"You did not request his presence," said Thranduil. "It is not customary for Legolas to be involved in non-strategic meetings.

"Oh?" Mithrandir asked. "Does not the darkness that you remember so well and that your people fear involve your armies and strategicians? Your trainers and your councilman?"

Thranduil was weary. "Mithrandir, I shall take away your wine. Give the child a day to recover. Give his company some rest."

"Tonight they rest—or celebrate, as it is more likely they will choose to do as woodelves on this clear night! But tomorrow we call the head marchwarden to your chambers, and she will bring whomever she wishes to include in my request."

"Lostariel will certainly bring Legolas, and her second, which will deprive our defense of two commanders," said Thelion.

"Lostariel is captain of her own guard. She may do as she wishes," Thranduil said simply, and poured another glass of wine for Mithrandir.

Thranduil did not want to speak anymore of the darkness that pressed in on his land. Instead, he reached for a carved bowl filled with small apples and sliced pieces of one off thinly, looking out over the head of Thelion to seek his son's face. Thranduil's eyes found Legolas on the other side of the clearing, standing now with a childhood friend, hands on his hips and lithe body leaned back and laughing. He watched his oldest son stride into the clearing from the path that followed the Forest River to step behind Legolas discreetly. He grabbed Legolas around the waist from behind, spinning him around and clasping his shoulders, and Thranduil heard Legolas' voice rise in joy. It had been too long since the two brothers had spent any time together outside of council chambers, for these days were dark indeed.

Thranduil sighed. There was no escaping thoughts of the darkness this evening, and he looked up to the stars for strength. Thranduil noted that Mithrandir was watching him closely, so he put down the knife with which he had cut the apple, and instead picked up his wine, for a toast.

"To lighter days," the Elvenking said, and the table murmured its assent as the party continued around them.

"Yes," said Mithrandir, lifting the glass to his lips. "That is precisely what I am hoping for."