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Elrond groaned upon waking up, pulling his blanket tighter and curling up beneath it. His teeth chattered in his mouth as he slowly stood, keeping the blanket wrapped around him as he shuffled to his closet and pulled out some winter clothing. Maedhros would kill him if he saw how poorly dressed for the weather Elrond was- he can practically hear the scolding tone echoing in his head as he slowly got changed. Elros’s cloak was the last step of the outfit, and though it did little to comfort him from the pervasive cold, it did warm him inside.
Fine tremors shake his body as he makes his way to Gil-galad’s office for his instructions, pausing a couple times to stretch and warm up when his body grew too stiff. He kept his hands tucked away in his pockets, clenched into fists to have some semblance of warmth retained within them. Keeping his head down, Elrond pretended not to notice the curious looks he got walking down the hall. It was still early in the winter, so very few- if any- elves were dressed as warmly as he was, and even this was not enough for him.
He slipped into Gil-galad’s office silently, shivering as the room revealed itself to be even colder than the hall outside. He removed his hands from his pockets and pulled on his cloak, tucking it a little closer to his body, and waited for Gil-galad to acknowledge his presence. The High King seemed very focused on what he was writing, so Elrond took the moment of peace before his day began to attempt to warm up a bit. He bent and touched the ground, then righted himself and twisted from side to side. He rolled his ankles and wrists, and then neck for good measure, and then did other various small exercises in place that would not be too distracting, but kept him warm still.
“Elrond,” Gil-galad finally greeted after several minutes had passed. Elrond perks up, looking towards his High King with a forced smile that hurts his face. He feels frozen solid, and can only hope that the shivers that run through him are not too obvious. Shaking hands fidgeted with the cloak wrapped around his shoulder again, tugging it closer to his front and pulling away when they accidentally brushed against the frigid metal pin affixing it. Celebrimbor was a very talented smith, but Elrond doubts even he could make a pin that does not grow cold.
“High King,” Elrond greets, teeth clicking loudly in the quiet of the room. Lindon is not quite awake yet, the darkness drags on this morning and many elves will not be awake for some time still. Clenching his jaw, Elrond tries to avoid the narrowing gaze of Gil-galad's eyes by peeking at the writing he was doing, lips twitching up when he recognizes the name. He does hope he will be tasked with delivering the letter to Celebrimbor, it has been far too long since he was last able to view Eregion. Gil-galad’s eyes pierce into the side of his head as Elrond shifts from foot to foot, unable to help the shiver that runs all the way down from his head to his feet.
“Are you ill?” Gil-galad asks, and Elrond risks a glance up at him and regrets it. Gil-galad’s brow is furrowed in concern, mouth twisted into a frown that has Elrond feeling guilty for not speaking up about being cold. Gil-galad stands and steps towards him, reaching out and placing his hand on Elrond’s forehead, a common enough song and dance between them that Elrond does not pull away from the touch, suffering it with a pout instead. He is not sick, simply cold- though by the look on Gil-galad’s face, Elrond will have a hard time convincing him such. Perhaps he should have added a few more layers to his outfit, and gloves, but there has hardly been any snow yet so it feels… Elrond knows that he is not being dramatic, that he feels cold because he is cold, but it feels over the top to dress so warmly when many elves are still in autumn wear.
“I’m not ill, simply cold. I will get used to it in time, as I do every winter.” He explains away, shifting from foot to foot because remaining still meant getting even colder. Gil-galad clicked his tongue in disapproval, and Elrond widened his eyes when he began unclasping his own- very elaborate and quite beautiful- cloak. Elrond had hardly even noticed that Gil-galad was wearing one, it is rare to see him in something other than his robes, and now he wonders why the extra layer was added. “You do not need-” Elrond is interrupted by a sharp shushing noise from Gil-galad, and shuts his mouth obediently, allowing Gil-galad to drape the cloak over his shoulders and affix it with his pin- another one of Celebrimbor’s, Elrond can tell by the intricate jewel work.
The cloak is warm with body heat, and Elrond tucks it around himself eagerly, appreciating the added warmth. It is a comfortable weight as well, though a bit long on him due to their height difference. He looks up at Gil-galad as he pulls away from the pin, lips twisting at the satisfied nod the High King gives himself. Elrond is certain he must look ridiculous, draped in the finery intended for the High King- the warm gold certainly does not match with the cold blues of Elrond’s outfit, but the cloak is warm, and it was a gift, so who is he to deny it? “Thank you,” Elrond says softly, teeth having stopped their senseless clattering and shivers having stopped. The cloak seems to retain heat as well, he does not feel like he is getting colder anymore.
“It is of no consequence. I need my herald to be healthy as he completes his tasks.” Gil-galad replies casually, waving off Elrond’s words as he turns back towards the desk and shuffles through the papers. Elrond allows himself a private grin as Gil-galad sorts through the mess, because he so often tells the High King he must be more organized with his papers, and Gil-galad never listens. As he waits, he inspects the cloak more thoroughly, tracing the intricate patterns with his eyes and amusing himself by attempting to find shapes within the lines. “Ah! Here it is.” Gil-galad exclaims, passing over a sheet of parchment to Elrond with a smile, “Much to do today, I’m afraid. Do let me know if you require assistance.” Elrond accepts the paper with a hum, looking over the list carefully and sighing fondly.
“Of course, High King.” Elrond replies, saying his goodbyes and taking his leave. It does not surprise him that, in Elrond’s distraction, Gil-galad had added an extra step to the bottom of the list (which truly was not too long, Gil-galad always seemed so dramatic when giving Elrond his instructions for the day) which read ‘Stay warm.’ Elrond chuckled to himself, and then set off to the library for some quiet to write today's speeches.