A/N: Welcome to my first long(ish) Tolkien story! This story will be seven chapters long, focused primarily on Thranduil, and follows the movie-canon version of events, with some backstory thrown in by me. Shoutout to myrkvidrs on tumblr for (indirectly) helping me flesh out my Thranduil headcanons before writing this, Buffintruda for being my wonderful Beta, and to realelvish dot net for helping me with OC names. ("Calien" means "Of the Light".)

Thanks for reading and reviewing, and I hope you enjoy!

A Light in Dark Places

"May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out."

—Galadriel, The Fellowship of the Ring

Chapter One

Calien

The first time Thranduil saw her was in moonlight. She was tall and beautiful, her face turned up to the sky. They were above the leaves, in the highest towers of Oropher's halls, and the moon bathed the small room with light.

He froze in place, staring at her, not wanting to look away. She was Silvan, wearing the garb of a warrior, though her scabbard hung empty at her side. Thranduil did not know what she was doing up here, but he did not want her to leave.

What ought he to do? he wondered in panic. One wrong move and she could vanish, for all he knew. Perhaps she was not real: her beauty was ethereal and and almost otherworldly. Perhaps if he blinked he would lose her.

But he could not just stand there, not forever. Soon she would turn and notice him. He ought to introduce himself first.

Thranduil took one shaky, hesitant step forward. She turned and gasped in surprise, and he felt like doing the same, only in awe. Her eyes were pale green, widened and reflecting the moonlight back at him.

"Hello, fair maiden," he said, trying not to stammer. "I am Thranduil Oropherion. And what is your name?"

She was called Calien, so she said, and this was not the last he saw of her.

Calien was a warrior, a member of the forest guard. She protected Oropher's boundaries and his castle, under the command of the Captain of the Guard. Thranduil often now watched the Guard set out, just to get a glimpse of her during work.

Calien liked him, and he, her. They met together after dusk in the same room they had first encountered each other, speaking of their lives and their aspirations and of all other things. Thranduil told his father King Oropher all about her, and he only laughed.

"I did not think you would become so alike unto our Silvan friends that you would wed one," Oropher said with a smile.

Thranduil blushed. "No one said anything about weddings!" he exclaimed. "Calien and I are not yet that close, ada."

"But she is fond of you, and you of her," Oropher said with a smile. "Elves love not often. I wish you the best with your Silvan maid."

Thranduil shook his head, very embarrassed.

"You are of age, Thranduil, my son," his father said, "and so is she, a fine young warrior of the guard. Give it a year or two and you youngsters will be wed. Take my word for it. It is how your mother and I were."

Thranduil sighed at the thought of his mother. He remembered her only faintly. She had been killed on the journey to the Greenwood, when he was only twenty and not yet grown. That was seventy years ago. His father grieved for years, but he was composed the few times he spoke of her now. Still, a haunted melancholy hid behind his eyes.

Oropher's prediction was not untrue. Calien and Thranduil's relationship soon grew closer and deeper, until at last the day of their marriage arrived.

They wed under sunlight, on a summer's midday. It was up in the high towers, where the light shone down clearly above the trees, and those of keen eyesight could gaze for miles around over the green summer leaves.

Calien and Thranduil lived for many years in peaceful harmony. She continued her work in the Guard, and he often began to travel with her as part of the forest warriors. He grew proficient and strong in the art of sword wielding, though Calien always favored the bow.

Oropher moved his halls northward eventually; and then again, and again. Each time Thranduil followed him faithfully, speaking and encouraging the Silvan elves who were reluctant to leave their home to follow their Sinda king. He grew popular among the kin of his wife, and Oropher praised him and loved him all the more for strengthening the royal family's bond with its people.

Then came war. The Last Alliance, it was called, and Oropher grimly marched his people south to fight against Mordor. Thranduil was reluctant to go, but obeyed his father's command and fought alongside him.

Oropher and much of the Silvan army were slain in the Battle of Dagorlad, and the sorrow and rage of the remaining elves was terrible to behold. Still full of grief, Thranduil kept going.

Grimly, and with a heavy heart, Thranduil took leadership of his people. He led them onward, to what he believed was certain death. He did not want to go any further. He had no more love for the Noldorin elves, not that he had any in the first place.

"Gil-galad," he told the High King wearily, "we cannot go any further. We are exhausted. We have lost a third of our forces."

The Noldo frowned, worry and stress creasing his brow. "Thranduil, we have suffered losses, too. We cannot turn back, not now. The Last Alliance needs the elves of the Greenwood, now more than ever, or all is lost."

"All will be lost regardless," Thranduil said bitterly. "They will slaughter us. We march to the death of all who walk here, elves and men both."

Gil-galad put a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "I know the death of your father has been hard on you, but you must not despair. We do not fight against Morgoth the Accursed, but against Sauron. We need only hope and a strong arm to prevail. And we need your forces."

Thranduil looked down. "We will march with you to the Black Gate, and fight alongside your forces. But if we prevail in this dark hour, do not ever again look to the elves of Eryn Galen for aid in dark times. Too much of our blood has been split. We will not fight for any but ourselves any longer."

Against all odds, the Last Alliance prevailed. Sauron was defeated, but at a heavy cost. Thranduil lost another third of his army, his people, his friends; the High King Gil-galad was also slain.

Thranduil led the broken, scarred remains of his people back to the Greenwood and vowed to hold true to his promise. He strengthened the Guard, appointing his wife Calien as its Captain since the previous one had fallen in the Battle of Dagorlad.

He carried now the memory of darkness within him. Oropher had fallen, and Thranduil now was King of the Woodland Realm, but he took no joy in this new title.

He had Calien to comfort him, and for this he was grateful. For many long years the Woodland Realm was at peace, and Thranduil remained so as well. He and Calien often returned to the highest towers in the new palace, to see the light of the skies clearly and drink it in. He captured this light once, in several pristine jewels, and gave them to her as a gift. Delighted, she displayed them for all to see, working them into her everyday wear. Thranduil did regret he had not thought ahead to make them into a necklace or a bracelet for her to wear more easily.

After some time, something woke inside each of them and they began to yearn for a child. Calien and Thranduil spent the better part of a year trying for an heir, and at last they were successful. One year later, their son was born.

He was small, very small, Thranduil thought worriedly, but Calien and the midwives comforted him, assuring the child was a healthy size and weight. Legolas, they named him, green leaves. He became the joy of Thranduil's life alongside his wife, a light in this dark world. But his light was not unquenchable, and darkness gathered in the north: war was coming...