Summary: A royal Elf muses on the Gift given to the Secondborn.

T.A. 249, Annuminas, Arnor

"He wanted to see you, Uncle." The young Dunadan offered the elven King a respectful bow, as the one he had thought of as his grandfather's brother gifted him with a sad smile.

"I thank you, Arantar," Thranduil murmured. He did not say another word, but walked into the royal bedchamber, where his old friend...not old, he thought, not by far...lay dying. Dying. It was not a word that sat well on the King's mind. It was near an age ago...but seemed only yesterday...that he had ridden to Imladris, with news of Isildur's untimely death, and that of his sons. Lost. Lost...and now...

"Thrani." The pet-name he'd allowed the Man to use as a child rolled easily off Valandil's tongue, and Thranduil dropped his gaze to Valandil's, seating himself on the edge of the King's bed, taking his hand.

"Yes, gwador-laes." Thranduil could still feel Valandil's grip, strong in his hand. "Why do you do this?" Thranduil asked. "Why now? You are yet young..."

"I have seen two hundred and sixty winters, Thrani." Valandil shook his head. "I am ready."

"Ready...for what?" Thranduil felt tears prick his eyes. "What now?" He felt, rather than saw, Eldacar and young Arantar, the latter barely fifty-six, come to flank him.

"For this. Eldacar, ion-nin," Valandil said, "to you I leave the Elendilmir, and the Sceptre of Annuminas, and to your heirs after you. Bear them well."

"I will, Adar," Eldacar replied softly. At Valandil's request, Thranduil lifted the Star of Elendil from the cushion it lay on, and Eldacar knelt, accepting it on his brow as Valandil gave the silver rod into his keeping.

"These are my legacy, gwador nin," Valandil said softly, "and my gift to you, ere I accept the Gift ordained to my race. I would not have you know only grief, Thranduil. You have ever been family. Continue to be so."

"I promise, gwador laes. I promise." He swallowed hard.

"I love you all, very much. But my parents and other brothers are waiting, Thrani," he told Thranduil, and Thranduil nodded silently.

"I will not keep you from them, Valandil. I...I release thee."

"I, too, Ada," Eldacar said softly.

"I, too, Daerada."

"Thank you, my brother. Thank you, my children," Valandil said quietly. "Now I would sleep." Thranduil quietly closed the heavy draperies, dimming the light in the bedchamber as Valandil's eyes closed. Valandil's chest rose and fell...and did not rise again.

Thranduil bowed his head, weeping silently, and Eldacar embraced him as a brother. "You have lost a brother, aran-nin, but so long as one of my line remains alive, you shall never lose your family," Eldacar whispered.

"Thank you," Thranduil said gratefully, drawing Arantar in with them, as the three, two Kings and the young Prince, mourned together. Soon enough there would be time to settle matters of state. For now, they needed each other, so they could begin to heal. Thranduil was grateful for the gift of love and support his mortal brother's heirs offered, and would give them the same in return.