***Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or places; they belong to the Tolkien estate. I've tried to be as accurate to the lore as possible, with a little artistic license. Please let me know if I got something wrong. You can copy or spread this around as much as you like, but please give credit where credit is due! :) Enjoy!

Evening Falls

Chapter One: The Founding

Thranduil stared ahead with a blank expression across his flawless features. Though he was the prince of this so-called Greenwood, he sat at the very last place at the table. Apparently, since he was not king yet, his status was of no consequence to the other elves. In addition, his father had advised him to keep silent during this meeting and only listen. His ideas were of the same worth as his current social ranking.

Meanwhile, the king perched at the head of the massive council table. Though his posture was very formal, he looked at ease among the other elves. Thranduil felt as out of place as a dwarf aboveground. He straightened his posture to be more like his father's, though he was sure that he didn't look quite so comfortable.

Representatives from three different peoples sat around the massive table, a sanded and lacquered tree stump. The roots gnarled and twisted outwards, providing ample leg room and natural seats. He recognized his own Sindarin people—they were friends of his father, after all—but he was a little intimidated by the Quenya elves that had joined the council. They were beautiful, aloof, and wise, even by Elven standards. He didn't pay much attention to those Silvan elves in the group. They appeared to him harsh and wild next to their Sindarin and Quenya brothers.

Thranduil clasped his hands in his lap, wondering when negotiations would be over. They'd all been meeting every day for weeks now. He hadn't had to attend the first several meetings; he only started coming when the council declared Oropher to be the ruler of the realm.

"How do you propose to unite our two peoples then, My Lord?" an elf by name of Fanor asked, leaning towards Oropher. Candlelight glinted off the silver circlet he wore. "Though we are not quite so different from you as we are from the Quenya, we are still far removed. My people might not be quick to recognize your leadership." Though his tone was friendly, Thranduil saw the hardness in his eyes.

"Fanor, you led the council to believe that the Silvan elves would be perfectly accepting of a Sindarin ruler. That is why we chose Oropher as king. Are you going back on your word?" Lord Celeborn asked, taking the hand of his wife, the Lady Galadriel.

Fanor's grey eyes darted to look at Celeborn. "My Lord, you misunderstand me. My people have no great love for the High Elves, but a Sindarin is preferable to a Quenya. Oropher is a fine choice. I am only hoping that my people will see it that way as well, and not as being ruled by an outsider."

"He speaks the truth," Galadriel said, her voice like a crystal dagger. Wavy blond hair fell like a cascading waterfall down her back, mingling with her bejeweled white gown. "And his concern is valid. Though the Silvan elves will be more accepting of a Sindarin elf, they are still wary of any of the High Elves. We must find a more permanent solution to bind the two cultures."

"What kind of solution do you have in mind, My Lady?" Oropher asked with a deferential nod towards Galadriel.

She glanced at her husband, a tiny smile forming on her lips and starlight shining in her eyes. "There is no bond more eternal and sacred than the covenant of marriage."

All eyes turned to Thranduil. The sudden attention made him feel like his skin was on fire. He looked right back at them, his face still expressionless. They weren't really suggesting that, were they? Surely the High Elves had more important concerns…

"What do you say, young Thranduil?" Fanor asked.

Thranduil blinked. "I…I am not sure I understand," he said finally. He looked at his father, wide-eyed and silently pleading for help.

Oropher laced his fingers together, carefully resting his entwined hands on the tabletop. "My son, we are suggesting that you marry an elf of Silvan descent."

Thranduil noticed that his father had said "we." That meant that his father agreed that he should marry a Silvan girl. Panic rose in Thranduil's stomach like the wind over a mountainside. He had left his home in Lindon, become a prince of Greenwood, and now he was expected to marry? It seemed like too much to expect of one person in such a tiny sliver of time.

But he swallowed his fear and apprehension, as his father had instructed him. A good ruler never reveals his true thoughts, his father had said. "A marriage between Sindarin and Silvan elves would bind the two peoples forever. I…I suppose I have no choice but to agree."

The elves all turned back to their discussion, seemingly satisfied with that answer. Now that he had agreed, they no longer had any interest in him. Thranduil thought this a little unfair, but he reminded himself that they were building a civilization. They only cared about him so far as it concerned their new land.

"It is settled then," Celeborn said. "Oropher shall rule as king alongside his wife, the queen. Once he comes of age, the prince Thranduil shall be wed with a Silvan maiden. I believe that is enough discussion for one evening. Let us retire. We shall convene again tomorrow morning with the Lord Gil-Galad to discuss borders and boundaries. Farewell."

With that, all the elves around the table rose and retreated to their quarters. Thranduil was the last to leave, as he was the least important in the room. He was grateful that the meeting had ended so quickly. He didn't know how much longer he could sit there with the knowledge of his impending marriage hanging over his head.

He wandered through the unfamiliar halls of the palace. He hadn't been there quite long enough to learn the layout. Back home, he could run through the house blindfolded and still find his way. Not here. At least, not yet. He supposed he'd get to know this place even better than his old home.

He finally located his quarters. It still didn't feel like it belonged to him, but even he had to admit that it was beautiful. There was a large, round bed pushed up against the left wall. The headboard was a tangle of smoothed interwoven branches and milky stones. Across the bed lay a rich burgundy bedspread embroidered with silver, and pillows filled with the softest down were piled high. On one side of his bed, there was an end table made of a lacquered tree stump. He had stacked some of his leather-bound books on top of it. A massive candelabra that matched the headboard stood on the other side of the bed, the flickering candles dripping puddles of wax.

His tiled floor was littered with leaves, courtesy of the massive open balcony that made up the far wall. He currently had the filmy white curtains drawn to let in the air. Near the balcony, there was a small table and two high-backed chairs. Across from the bed was the rest of his furniture. He had been provided with a chest of drawers, a wardrobe, and several bookcases that he found insufficient for his maps and volumes.

Upon entering his room, he took a deep breath through his nose. The air smelled fresh and clean. It relaxed him. He shut his door and walked straight on to the balcony. Though the sun had already set, he could see the faint glimmers of light from people's homes. Several large trees guarded his balcony, the sturdy branches well within reach. The temptation proved too much for Thranduil. He swung himself up onto the nearest branch, stepping lightly towards the trunk.

He scaled the tree like he was walking up a staircase. He shimmied up the smaller branches at the top, the ones that would normally break. He poked his head above the canopy, perched on one branch while his arm wrapped languidly around another.

He gazed upwards, at the bright points of starlight shining down. He recognized the celestial bodies and constellations easily. He felt at peace, looking at the stars. They were the same stars that shone over Lindon. If they could shine over Greenwood too, maybe it was a good enough place to call home.

He didn't know how long he stayed up there, watching the stars. He felt the familiar tugging at his very heart and soul, a longing for the lands beyond. Someday. Someday, he would make the journey that all elves must. But it would not be any time soon.