S.A. 3434, The War of the Last Alliance

Thranduil fought valiantly alongside his father Oropher, and a host of lightly armed elves. The Battle of Dagorlad was raging, and Thranduil’s strategic brilliance shone as he led their forces with a commanding presence. However, the tide turned abruptly when Oropher, in his valorous zeal, charged ahead of his warriors in defiance of the signal from Gil-galad. The first assault upon Mordor proved fatal for Oropher, who was struck down amidst the chaos.

Thranduil's heart froze as he witnessed his father's fall. The sight was a grievous blow, the reality of the battlefield momentarily eclipsed by his personal loss. Despair clutched at him and as the shock threatened to paralyze him, you, his trusted friend and fellow soldier, grasped his shoulder firmly, shaking him from his stupor. The urgency in your touch was palpable.

Gil-galad, the High King of the Elves of the West saw Thranduil and knelt in-front of him. “What are your orders, King Thranduil?” he asked, waiting for his command.

Thranduil blinked and looked at you. "Thranduil, you must lead us!" you shouted over the din of combat.

He nodded sharply, blinking back tears. "Form ranks and advance!" Thranduil’s voice rang out. "We must press forward and take the high ground. Protect our flanks and engage the enemy with precision. Afad- nin orders a cost!” He finished in elvish.

You observed him, noting the fierce determination etched into his features as he swiftly organized the remaining forces. His command was resolute, his leadership unwavering, even as the shadow of his personal loss loomed large.

As you prepared to move back into the fray, Thranduil looked at you, his eyes reflecting both gratitude and the fierce resolve that had taken hold. For a moment, the weight of the battle seemed to lift from his shoulders. “Thank you," he said quietly, gripping your arm with a firm, appreciative clasp. His gaze lingered on you, a silent acknowledgment of the strength you had given him.