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“Where is Elrond?”
Erestor lifted his head from his low bow, meeting Gil-Galad’s eyes. “I do not know, your majesty. I have not seen him.”
Gil-Galad’s deep gray eyes furrowed. “You two work together every day.”
“I do not go into his private chambers, your majesty.”
“Perhaps you could make an exception?”
Erestor bowed deeply once again. “Yes. I will do that. I will bring you Elrond.”
“And take care! He is deep in grief--he just returned from his brother’s funeral. Speak gently to him.”
“... Elros is dead?”
“Elros is dead,” Gil-Galad confirmed. “It burns my heart, but a king saves his weeping for private spaces. Now go!”
Erestor shook his head and slipped from the room.
He was gone for a very long time, long enough for Gil-Galad to become uncomfortable. Finally, he dashed back in, panic written across his normally stern features. “I cannot rouse him!”
“You… what?”
“I cannot rouse him. He lies in a deep sleep--I cannot pull him from it.”
Gil-Galad rose from his throne, his robes drifting around his long, muscular legs. “Take me to him. If he will not rouse for you, he may rouse for his King.”
They rushed through the back halls of the castle, almost labyrinthine, until they reached the hall where some of Gil-Galad’s favorite advisors had chambers. Elrond’s room was dark, with drawn shutters and nary a candle for lighting. Erestor helpfully lit a small lantern, whose light threw creepy shadows across the stone walls and the bed. A lump dwelled on the bed, still and unmoving.
“... Elrond?”
No response.
Gil-Galad sat carefully next to Elrond on the cushy bed, studying his face. He was paler than usual, almost gray, and drained of color. His breath barely moved his chest. Gil-Galad lay his fingers against Elrond’s neck, feeling his barely twitching pulse. His skin wasn’t feverish, indeed, it almost felt cool.
“‘Tis his grief,” Gil-Galad murmured. “He is fading.”
“What is the cure? How do we bring him around?”
“I know not. Summon our best healer. Immediately.”
“... He is our best healer, your majesty,” Erestor responded.
“Then find our second best healer! Be not foolish!”
Erestor nodded and ran from the room.
Gil-Galad put his hands on Elrond’s shoulders. “Come, come, Elrond, come back to me. ‘Tis your King. I still care for you. I still need you. Come back to me.”
Elrond did not move, but sighed a little.
“Elrond, brother, son, please, do not fade on me. It would burn my heart. I cannot lose both Peredhel, not now. Please.”
Still nothing from Elrond, he remained still in sleep.
Erestor returned with one of their healers, Tinullon, a small elleth who had recently arrived from Galadriel’s camp. She was lugging a bag that was half her size. She bowed. “My lord.”
“Elrond is fading from grief. How can I pull him from it?”
She pursed her lips. “... He needs something to live for.”
Gil-Galad quietly stroked Elrond’s pallid cheek. “I would give him the world, if I could only rouse him. He is like a little brother to me.”
“His fea will respond to tenderness,” Tinullon murmured, her normally quiet voice even softer, “if you do it correctly. Allow me.” She rummaged around in her massive bag until she pulled out a vial of something green, dabbed it on a white hanky and rubbed it on Elrond’s temples, then his pulse points, then put the vial under his nose. “Hold his hands.”
Gil-Galad did, gently rubbing the knuckles.
“Tell him what you said before.”
“... Elrond…” Gil-Galad took a deep breath, “... you are like a little brother to me. You and Elros both were. I know it is selfish, it is so selfish, but…” His voice broke. “... I cannot let go of you. I cannot lose both of my Peredhel. Please, I know it hurts, but… we can get through it together. I will do anything. Please.” A lone tear dripped onto Elrond’s cheek. “I love you. Please, please come back to me.”
Elrond gasped and jolted. His eyes flew open. “Ereinion?”
In that moment, Gil-Galad lost himself in relief, and pulled Elrond into a tight embrace, petting his hair like a small furry animal.
“... I will give you two some space,” Erestor murmured. “Allow me to assist you if you need anything. You too, Elrond.” He swept silently from the room.
Elrond nodded slightly into Gil-Galad’s chest.
“This will fortify him for now.” Tinullon. Gil-Galad had nearly forgotten she was there.
“But he is not out of danger?”
She shook her head slightly. “No. He needs to want to live.”
Gil-Galad took note of her expectant look. “You do not know how to make that happen, and would prefer that I would.”
“... If you would be so kind, your majesty.”
Gil-Galad turned his head back to Elrond, throwing his regal face into shadow. “Begone, then. If you cannot assist, let us alone.”
“Yes, your highness.” Tinullon fastened her bag once more, slung it onto her shoulder, and turned to leave, vanishing as quietly as she had come.
Gil-Galad took a deep breath of Elrond’s scent of campfire from where Elrond’s soft hair brushed against his nose. “... What could I do? What could I do to make you stay?”
“I am all right.” Elrond pulled away, swaying slightly. “I was merely napping. I do not know what the panic was for, your highness.”
“You were not merely napping! Erestor could not wake you, I could not wake you, and it took us summoning Tinullon to bring you around! You cannot just brush it under the rug! I know you have a tendency to put yourself aside, but please, please, tell me what I can do to aid you in your grief before it kills you!”
Elrond was silent for a long time. Finally, with no small amount of bitterness, he murmured out a “What can you do? What can you do? Nothing. Elros is dead. Go before Mandos and plead for his soul, if it is still there. If it has not passed on to the Void yet. Bring an instrument, the Lord of the Dead likes music.”
“... I would,” Gil-Galad murmured, “if I thought for a second that Elros would come back with me.”
“And he would not come back with me, either.” Elrond’s voice made it clear that he was not stating that as a question.
Gil-Galad was quiet.
“And so,” Elrond continued, “you can do nothing, and I can do nothing, and I am sundered from the one I loved most in Arda. Alas. Ring the bells, ringading those bells, because Elros Peredhel is dead!” He sprang from the bed, suddenly fiery. “Curse Luthien! Curse my foremother! May she know no rest as long as we are haunted by her choice!”
“Please, watch your words,” Gil-Galad pleaded. “Do not speak so harshly of her, she did it for love.”
“And her love has done nothing but take from me.”
Gil-Galad was quiet. “... I am so, so sorry, dear Elrond, I am. Even the might of a king cannot fix this, and it burns me, it does. I loved him, too. It gave me no pleasure to hear of his passing.”
“... I am not accusing you of anything,” Elrond sighed, shaking slightly in the aftermath of his sudden outburst. “... You have been…” his voice broke and he buried his face in his hands, “... so good to us…”
Protectiveness surged through Gil-Galad and he stood up, corralling Elrond back into his arms, more controlled this time. Brotherly affection touched deeply in Gil-Galad, a genuine love for the younger ellon, strong enough to move mountains and crack the foundations of the world, and maybe, just maybe, even strong enough to save him.
A guttural sob pushed and pulled at Elrond as it forced its way out, spasming his chest.
“Let yourself weep,” Gil-Galad murmured. “It will lessen the pain.”
“I would…” Elrond took a heaving breath. “I would have to cry an ocean… for the pain to lessen.”
Gil-Galad said nothing, only carefully eased him back towards the bed, curling his own tall, strong frame around Elrond’s slightly smaller one, cradling him against his chest. He draped the flowing silk of his robes around Elrond and held on tight.
“... We will get through this,” Gil-Galad murmured, once Elrond was a little calmer, “together. I will not leave you if you do not leave me. I swear on all of Lindon. All I need is for you to live.”
“... I will try,” Elrond whispered, breathlessly, wearily. He curled his hands in Gil-Galad’s robes, snuggling close. “... It hurts, still, desperately, but… I will try. Just as we did when our parents left, just as we did when we lost Maglor and Maedhros. And now it is just me. There are no more Peredhel. There is only Elrond now. And Elrond will try and try until the weight breaks his back.”
“And Ereinion will hold Elrond until the trying gets easier.”