Chapter Text
Elrond hated being peredhil sometimes. Most of the time, really, but the reason varied. Often, it was his ridiculous need for such a great amount of sleep. Most elves were just fine having slept only an hour and a half in one night, but not him. No, if he were to match that sleep schedule, he would fall ill in a matter of days… which is precisely what had happened. He'd been assigned a project with an insane deadline and, while he had finished it on time, it seemed that he was now paying the price.
His muscles ached, his head felt as if he were wearing a hat much too tight, his breath rattled in his chest, and he shivered, feeling as if he'd never be warm again. Elrond knew he was ill and he knew he had a fever, but he continued working anyway, though he avoided others as much as he was able.
As he was putting the finishing touches on a speech Gil-Galad was to give the next day, he received a summons to the king's personal chambers. No, not tonight! His skin stung from even the lightest touch and he didn't know how he could please Gil-Galad in his state, though he resolved to try anyway.
Elrond made his way to Gil-Galad's chambers, entered silently, and kneeled on the floor, trying to ignore the creak of his bones. "You have need of me?"
Gil-Galad looked down at him, about to say something, but stopped, frowning. His herald looked dreadful. His face was both pale and flushed, his eyes glazed over, and the trembling of his limbs belied his exhaustion. "You look unwell."
Elrond ducked his head in shame. "I apologize, my king. I admit I am slightly under the weather."
Gil-Galad motioned for him to stand and then gestured towards the door. "Then you can be of no use to me tonight. Return to your chambers, rest, and come back to me when you are well again."
Elrond stood and bowed. He left the room feeling both relieved and ashamed. If he was stronger, better, he wouldn’t fall ill like this, or at the very least would be able to conceal it. He would be useful! However, now that the king was aware of his illness, he would be assigned no more work and instead, be allowed to rest.
He opened the door to his room, kicked off his shoes, and all but fell into his bed. He lay there shivering and tried to make a checklist of things he needed to do to speed his recovery. He needed to make himself some fever reducing tea, needed to open the curtains to allow sunlight in, needed to ensure he was properly hydrating himself, needed…
When Elrond awoke, he felt worse than before. His headache was building and his stomach was churning and he was colder than before, despite the sweat that slicked his brow. The fever reducing tea would help tremendously with the headache and the chills he knew; he just had to get up, boil the water, steep the tea, drink it, and go back to sleep.
He sat up ever so slowly, wincing as his head spun in protest. Now semi-vertical, he blinked. What had he been about to do?
Oh, right. Tea.
Elrond pulled himself upright using the bedframe and trudged to his kitchen. He stoked the cooking fire and set the kettle on. Knowing he would fall back asleep if he sat, he moved to the cupboards and stared absently at his collection of teabags.
His feverish mind could hardly focus enough to read the labels, but he forced himself to anyway. There was chamomile, mint, ginger, hibiscus, and in the very back corner of the cupboard was his willow bark tea. It was the most disgusting thing he'd ever tasted, but it was effective.
He plucked one of the teabags from the jar, trying to ignore the ringing in his ears. Ugh, the headache was becoming unbearable. He reached into a different cupboard and grabbed a mug. He'd meant to grab a teacup, but he supposed a mug was close enough.
Elrond turned back to the cooking fire and, oh… His ears weren't ringing, the kettle was whistling. Had it taken that long to put a teabag in a mug? Nevermind, it didn't matter.
He pulled the kettle from its hook and poured the boiling water into the mug. He thought he should probably sit at the table but… it was just so far away. Elrond and his tea sank to the floor instead.
He slowly sipped the tea as he stared into the fire. A selfish part of him wished for someone to be there to comfort him as his fathers had in his childhood. Even someone to keep him company as Elros had when they had both fallen ill.
But he was no longer a child and he had no more family to ease his misery. He set his mug aside and curled up on the floor next to the fire. There may not have been anyone left to give him warmth, but Elrond supposed the fire was warm enough, so long as it didn't burn him.