Work Text:
Elrond was busy at work choosing some plants out of his medicinal garden when he spotted Gilraen out for a walk. It came as a surprise. He had come out here at this time of night on purpose: most reasonable people preferred to stay indoors on cold early-spring evenings when the air prickled with light rain.
That suited Elrond just fine. He had been running around all day and had a mild headache from all the paperwork he’d been looking at and the ledgers Lindir had submitted to him for his review. He’d been so busy he’d scarcely had time to breathe— and Estel had managed to climb up too high in a tree, fall out of it, and earn himself a concussion and fractured wrist. Elrond liked apothecary work after days like this. He found it calming: the process of selecting them, drying them, grinding them down, the chemistry involved. It was a pleasant break from decision-making and something to keep his mind just busy enough to avoid wandering down any slippery holes.
Gilraen took a turn down the path in his direction, spotted him, and immediately stopped short.
Elrond straightened from the rosehips he was collecting. “Good evening.”
“Good evening,” she said in surprise. “I can take another route.”
“No, you are hardly a bother.” He cocked his head. “It’s late.”
“It is,” she agreed.
“Are you having trouble sleeping?”
She looked away, down at her shoes, then shook her head. “No, I’m sleeping fine these days. I am only worried for Estel.”
A lie. Elrond decided not to not point it out. Gilraen hated it when she felt fussed-over. He turned back to the rose-hips so she wouldn’t feel observed and kept his tone light. “Oh, I know. He gave us all quite a fright.” Then he softened his voice to reassure: “It’s only a minor injury, and small children heal quickly.”
Gilraen wrapped her arms around herself, rocking once on her heels like she didn’t want to leave but couldn’t bear to stand still. Estel was like that. He could hardly hold still for a second, which drove Erestor to madness and brought Glorfindel and the twins no end of delight.
“I told him not to climb so high. He’s too little,” she said after a lengthy pause. “He never listens.”
There was annoyance in her voice, to be sure, and worry. But the sentence held an inflection at the end, a tremulous note which sounded like an apology.
Elrond studied her, then said: “Why don’t you come over here and help me with the mint? My knees are getting rather too old to crouch for so long, I’m afraid.”
Gilraen squinted at him. Elrond’s expression did not waver. The corners of his mouth twitched and he added: “Humor a tired old man.”
She finally ceased her nervous rocking, came over, and reached for the basket. Elrond handed it over, and Gilraen set to work on the mint while he circled the garden bed to see how the new rosemary cuttings he’d planted the other day were coming along.
They worked in silence together for some time after until Elrond quietly broke it.
“You are doing just fine, Gilraen.”
She heaved a great, shuddering gasp, set down the basket, and pressed her hands to her eyes.
Elrond came over to join her, crouching among the plants.
“Your knees,” Gilraen protested with a tearful, strained, half-manic laugh.
Elrond breathed a chuckle of his own. “Oh, I’ll survive.”
He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her, which she gratefully took. She hardly ever really cried, but her eyes were wet, tears beading up on her black eyelashes.
“I’m sorry,” she said as she dabbed at her eyes. “I know you come out here to be alone.”
“Well, so do you. So I think we are disturbing each other in equal measure.”
Gilraen let out another laugh that was not quite a laugh.
Elrond gave her shoulder a squeeze and offered her his hand. Gilraen took it and the pair of them rotated together through the herb garden in comfortable silence —save for Gilraen to ask what else she could collect for him, and Elrond directing her to the next plant. After half an hour of this, she looked a bit better, but was starting to shiver in the chill. Elrond announced that he had what he needed, insisted that she keep him company and have a late-night cup of chocolate, and they went inside.
As they sat in front of a crackling fire with Estel tucked safely asleep in the next room, Elrond hummed a cantrip under his breath. Despite herself, Gilraen’s eyelids grew heavy and she dropped off into a deep, healing sleep.
Elrond just smiled, took her empty cup and set it aside, and carried her off to her bed.