#gilgalad

His breaks are typically occupied with thoughts of you, yet seeing you in the flesh proves so much better. It’s like you heard him calling for an interruption and came forth at once. Maybe he can turn your visit into a dinner invitation, drawing out his time with you into the evening. Or so he wishes in the seconds before you give your answer.

“Well, I was hoping to find your Herald here with you. I haven’t been able to find him anywhere, and I need to consult him on a matter of urgent business,” you confess nervously, holding your hands behind your back. Gil-Galad tries his hardest not to show his disappointment. He should have known you wouldn’t have come for him. 

He takes in your disheveled appearance with a look of careful concern. He has never seen you look so out of sorts, and he wonders to himself what could be so important as to have you running around Lindon in search of his Herald. Shouldn’t you know where he is?

He has suspected the two of you of being engaged in a secret courtship for some time now. Convinced himself, really, because how could anyone spend so much time with you and not be utterly in love? The brief moments he has spent in your company have assured him it is true, though he tries not to think of it, tries not to think of you as belonging to someone else. 

“I have given Elrond the day off. I believe he mentioned something about going mushroom hunting, so I am not quite sure when to expect him back,” he answered. 

The color drains from your cheeks, leaving you looking pale and unfit to leave his sight, though you turn and make for the door without a response to him. He wonders at this, too, as he knows you to have impeccable manners. He cannot imagine you are making an exit without so much as a goodbye. 

“My lady, I believe you should have a seat and wait for him to return. You look unwell, and I won’t have you leave in such a state,” he explains, trailing after you, long arms reaching the door to pull it closed. 

“Very well. I am feeling a bit faint,” you agree, letting him usher you to a chaise in the corner of the room. 

Gil-Galad notices you are still holding your arms out of sight, contorted behind your back in an uncomfortable manner. Once he is sure you are settled, he goes to the door and calls for his guards, instructing them to send out a party to find Elrond and bring him back at once. He does this as quickly as he can, returning to you before you can even blink. 

“Now that is settled, perhaps I can be of service as we wait,” Gil-Galad, turns to you, hopeful. 

You are entirely embarrassed to be in the position you are currently, but the High King looks so sincere you can’t help but respond. You think to yourself that he must know of your weakness for him. How your incessant thoughts of him led you to where you are now. You thank the stars he is too polite to mention it.

“It is rather embarrassing, High King, and I think I had better wait for Elrond,” you confess, unable to meet his eyes. 

Yet you still see his face, how it falls when you give your answer. He nods, solemnly, wishing he had done more to gain your trust in the months prior. If he had, you wouldn’t be suffering now as you are. If he had, you would be asking him for help instead of Elrond. His expression is so moving, you wonder what exactly he is thinking.

You consider your options for a moment. You could be honest with the High King, let him know that thoughts of him had you so distracted on your daily walk that you found yourself tripping over the roots of a tree, sending you tumbling to the ground. You left the gardens with a nasty gash on your forearm, one that required medical attention. 

Elrond, you know, would never make fun of you for being clumsy like some of the other elves in Lindon. It’s why the two of you became such good friends in the first place. You both understood what it was like living with traits deemed atypical for elves. It’s the reason you started searching him out rather than heading to the healing halls to be tended to.

You feel the blood start to seep through your makeshift bandage and decide you must reveal your problem to the High King, if only so you don’t faint or bleed all over his study. You carefully bring your arms to rest on your legs in front of you. The crimson stain on your sleeve catches Gil-Galad’s attention, and he moves quickly to your side. 

He understands now why you requested Elrond. His herald has trained extensively in healing, though Gil-Galad knows a few things himself. He unwraps your bandage, taking care to jostle you as little as possible. He wonders why you insisted on waiting for Elrond instead of seeing one of the excellent healers of Lindon. Perhaps it would comfort you to be treated by the hands of your betrothed? Though his hands are larger and more calloused from his spear, he vows to do his best to treat you gently. He uses those hands to inspect the wound briefly before stepping out of the room. 

You assume he is going to fetch one of the other healers in Lindon, but are surprised to see him return alone with a bowl of warm water, a cloth, and a small healing kit. He returns to your side and quietly begins to dip the cloth into the water before tenderly cleaning the dried blood from your arm. He moves confidently, and you wonder when he had the time to learn healing. Was it in his adolescence, before he became king? Or maybe out of necessity, after a battle? You wish you knew him well enough to inquire.

Things go on in the manner, with Gil-Galad reverently tending to your injury and you trying hard not to swoon over him. Though you suppose you could pass it off as a reaction to the blood loss. Would he believe you, or see through the ruse? You aren’t sure if you’re ready to test your acting skills in front of the most important audience in Lindon. 

“If I dared to ask how you came into this injury, would I receive an answer?” He questions you, looking into your eyes in a way that makes your heart seize. 

“I’m afraid, my King, that it's a rather silly story. And to tell you the truth, I couldn’t bear it if you laughed at me,” you confess, tearing your eyes from his and instead focusing on the golden threads of his robes. 

He takes a moment to breathe, considering your words. How could you ever think that he would laugh at you? He is puzzled, unsure how to make his feelings in this moment clear. He moves on instinct, taking one of your hands in his left and raising his right to your cheek, tilting your head so you’re looking into his eyes once again.

“I would never laugh at you, melwa,” he says breathily, sincerity shining in his eyes. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in his words. The High King before you, staring reverently, is the stuff of dreams, not reality. Maybe you hit your head during your fall, and the last hour has been nothing but a hallucination. If that’s true, then you want to take every advantage of it. 

You press forward, slowly, feeling your nose bump into Gil-Galad’s. He tilts his head slightly, allowing his lips to slide against yours so gently you can hardly feel them. You kiss him back, increasing the pressure between you both. His hand squeezes yours and you squeeze back, smiling into the kiss. His right hand slides from your cheek to your neck, making your skin tingle in a way entirely foreign to you. 

This feeling spreads outward from your chest as Gil-Galad pulls away for a second before swooping back in for more, lips insistent and soft as they press into yours. How you’ve dreamt of this moment, not knowing how his desire mirrors yours. You feel it now, the passion in his kiss. 

Without warning the door bursts open and Elrond comes tumbling inside, tripping on his robes in his haste. He looks up and sees your tender embrace before you jump up from your position in Gil-Galad’s arms. You feel your face burn in embarrassment. What must your friend think, seeing you in such a position, desire laid bare?

“I’m sorry for the interruption, my King, but I was told Lady (Y/N) needed me immediately, and that I could find her here,” Elrond explains his sudden intrusion. You refuse to look back at Gil-Galad as you speak.

“I thank you, dear Elrond, but the High King graciously assisted me with my problem, and I no longer require your assistance. I hope you can forgive my intrusion on your free time,” you respond sheepishly.

Elrond gives you a gentle smile, eyes flickering between you and Gil-Galad, who has not moved from the couch. He assures you it is no trouble at all, and you can tell from the look in his eyes that he will be getting the full story from you the next time you two meet. A bow is given before exiting, the door closing quietly behind him. 

The room feels oppressive now with the weight of your actions. You don’t know how you’re going to face the High King after your impropriety towards him. How could you kiss him like that! He, who is so good to his people he can’t deny them anything! 

“I must apologize to you, my lady, for losing my senses. I should not have kissed you so. I will find Elrond and explain the situation. I hope I did not damage your courtship with my hasty actions,” you hear from behind you. Gil-Galad projects his voice, but you still notice the tremble. 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning. I am not courting Elrond, or anyone for that matter,” you respond, turning to him. You want to ease the burden on his mind, let him know he did nothing wrong. If any wrong was done, it belongs to you alone. 

He stands suddenly, his tall frame towering over yours. His expression turns from dejected to hopeful as he thinks over your words, what they could mean for him. He has never been sure of your feelings for him, but if he ever had a chance he knows he must take it now.

“And if someone asked to court you, what might your answer be?” He asked, hands reaching for yours once again. 

“I would have to confess the truth. My affections are spoken for, and I could not accept any courtship proposal save one,” you respond, scared to look up at him. Could he know your heart, though you haven’t spoken a word of it to anyone?

“And if I was that someone?” He presses closer.

“I would have to accept,” you confess, smiling up at Gil-Galad from beneath your lashes.