Dusk was falling as Thranduil led his battered cohort back to the encampment after a long day of battle. All were grimy and tired, but what little relief Thranduil felt at seeing the makeshift village of canvas tents soon fled. The atmosphere in camp was that of an army in mourning, for the King had been mortally wounded in combat some hours before. Heledir, the King's most loyal general, had been witness to the event and looked uncharacteristically shaken as he delivered the tragic tidings that were about to change Thranduil's life forever.

"He clings to life, my prince, and shall not see the morning. Please, come with me. He has asked for you many times."

The men looked at Thranduil gravely as he strode through camp on Heledir's tail. Their army had suffered heavy losses since the battle began, but the imminent loss of their commander-in-chief, with the victory still nowhere in sight, was a blow from which it would be hard to recover. In that moment of fear and grief, the thought of the monumental task ahead was almost too much for Thranduil to bear.

"Heledir," he said suddenly when they reached the tent in which Oropher lay, and he grasped the general's shoulder for some much-needed support. "I am not prepared for this. I cannot face him alone. Please, come inside with me."

He felt a coward, but Heledir merely bowed his head in acknowledgment of the request. "If my prince wishes it, then I shall."

Together they entered Oropher's tent, scarcely lit by a single lamp. What struck Thranduil immediately was that there were no healers present at the King's bedside, and his final shred of hope fled at that. He tried to speak, but his voice failed him and he had to clear his throat to make himself audible. "Father?"

Oropher's eyes cracked open, turning toward him. He appeared weak, strengthless- it made him look a stranger. "Thranduil, at last. Sit down, I must speak with you. There isn't much time."

"Don't say that." Thranduil lowered himself unsteadily onto the only available chair. "Where are the healers? Why have they abandoned you?"

"They did what they could, ion. They would have done more still, but their efforts were in vain so I told them to leave. My wounds are grave and many, my body is bleeding on the inside. I already have the taste of death on my tongue."

Thranduil shook his head in stubborn denial, blinking as tears rose in his eyes. "No, Father. I beg you..."

"Do not weep for me," Oropher said sharply. Even in his dying hours, his eyes were like steel. "A King of the Greenwood cannot be seen weeping. Remember that!"

Thranduil took pause, struggling to obey. "Please, don't say these things."

"It is the truth." Oropher's expression softened somewhat. "You will be the King now, Thranduil. The men will look to you to lead them in this blasted war, and you cannot disappoint them. We have lost so many already... You must do better than I."

"Father, I am not ready."

"You must be!" Oropher's eyes shot fire. "You must be because you have no choice. There is no one else. You are my son, and you have been prepared for this all your life. The men will follow you without question. End this war and bring them home, as I wish I could have done. The crown is now yours by right."

The King paused, turning away to spit blood into a bowl the healers may have left for that purpose.

"Tell me," he went on, more calmly, "do you intend to marry that lovely elleth of yours?"

Thranduil bowed his head, trying to push away the image that rose before his mind's eye- the face of his chosen one, the memory of her soft body. His father had asked him that question so many times before, and today, for the first time, Thranduil allowed himself to answer truthfully. "Yes," he said quietly, "I love her."

"Good." Oropher appeared satisfied. "A King should be wedded and have children. You must beget a son, Thranduil. Our line must continue. Have a son, in whom will be combined the best of both of you."

Thranduil finally lost the fight with his emotions. "If... if the Valar wish it, Father."

Oropher was silent for a while, watching his grief-stricken heir with a rare look of compassion in his eyes. "I know you are frightened," he said softly, "but you cannot let those soldiers out there know that, son. They have a long fight ahead of them and they need you to be strong, as I know you can. I know that I am flawed as a father, but as your King I have tried to set the best example I could."

"You have," Thranduil said hoarsely. "You have, and I will not forget it."

"There, now." Oropher touched his son's head briefly. "You have fought bravely all this time, making me proud to call you son. I know that you have a deep love for the Greenwood, and that you will do right by our people. I die peacefully, leaving them in your care." He reached for the signet ring he wore on his middle finger and began taking it off, which proved difficult because his hands were swollen. "Hold out your hand, Thranduil."

Thranduil did as he was asked, watching the King struggle to complete the simple task of taking off the ring and transferring it to the hand of its new owner.

"Our family crest," Oropher said. "Wear it with pride, ion, as I have done all my life. Friend and foe will see it and know who you are."

The ring felt strange and unfamiliar on Thranduil's finger. "Yes, Father."

Oropher lay back into the pillow, a deathly pallor already on his face. "If you do return home," he said quietly, "I hope you will think on your adar with more kindness than I probably deserve. I know I wasn't the affectionate father you might have wished for. I hope that one day, you will find it in your heart to forgive me for that." He closed his eyes, breathing audibly in and out. "Tell your mother that I am sorry."

Soon after that, the King stopped drawing breath, and his hand went slack in Thranduil's.

"Father... Ada... no, don't leave me." Thranduil lowered his head and wept, freely now, against his father's chest. "Don't leave me here all alone."

"Not alone." Heledir, who had all but made himself invisible, came forward and leaned over Oropher's death bed, bestowing a reverent kiss upon the monarch's brow. Then he knelt before Thranduil, kissing his ring before looking up at Oropher's son with trusting eyes. Softly and solemnly, he spoke but four words.

"Long live the King."