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Elrond fights back a pained noise as he glares at the insect that had decided to use him as a meal and bitten him. It flies away, not even baring a look back for its victim. He sighs and takes a look at the small bite, poking at it and grimacing when it sent waves of pain down his arm where it had bitten him. Figures that the one day he is without his fateful cloak, sleeves rolled up in the heat, that he would be bitten by one of the few venomous insects in Lindon. He tugs his sleeves down, bracing himself for the walk to the healing halls, because the venom would grow steadily more painful until he got treatment.
The first few steps went well, though he had to keep his hands fisted in the fabric of his pants so that he wouldn’t continue to pick at the bite. Burning pain traveled up his arm, and he bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, breathing deeply. He passed a few elves in the way, and made sure to give them polite nods with a small smile, though neither were returned, because it would do little for his already poor reputation- being that he is a feral fëanorion peredhel- too be seen frowning openly in the halls. He stops just short of running into someone, lost in his own thoughts, though he now snaps out of them.
“Elrond?” Galadriel asks, brows furrowed with concern. He opens his mouth but finds it suddenly dry, so closes it and swallows. Her eyes were wide, lips twisted downwards as she looked him over, and he couldn’t claim to be surprised when she reached up and rested her hand on his forehead, though he did enjoy it. He had spent much time around her, so he knew that she understood how his body worked better than most. Her hand was pleasantly cool, despite the fact that he didn’t have a fever. “What’s wrong?” She asks, narrowing her eyes as they sweep over him, observing.
“Got bitten by a bug, a venomous one.” Elrond slurs out, words rolling around in his mouth. He frowned, annoyed at the loss of control over his words, they were his most formidable weapon after all. Galadriel sighs and takes his shoulders in her hands, shaking him for a moment. Nausea rises, but he manages to fight it back, accepting the arm she offers and walking with her toward the healing halls. They walk at a slower pace than Elrond was traveling before, but he does not mind. Galadriel makes small talk with him, and giggles when Elrond trips over his own two feet as they walk. He feels his face flush in embarrassment, but it is always good to hear Galadriel laugh.
“Foolish peredhel,” Galadriel murmurs to him as they walk. They pass two elves who outright glare at Elrond for a moment before switching to awe-stricken eyes when Galadriel passes. Elrond blames the fact that he rolls his eyes on his loss of control over his body, but he smiles when Galadriel catches the movement and snickers. They keep walking, and Elrond feels the pain increase as they continue. He tries not to make it obvious, but a pained whimper falls from his lips when his shirt shifts wrong and brushes over the bite. Galadriel pauses, looking over at him with worry but Elrond waves her off. He manages another minute, and then his legs falter beneath him and he would have hit the floor if Galadriel had not caught him and held him up. “Elrond!” She admonishes, gently setting him down against the wall and kneeling in front of him, “You must warn me before you swoon.”
Elrond laughs weakly, taking a few deep breaths. “My apologies, Lady Galadriel. I will predict in the future when my legs will fail me and warn you.” She laughs too, but it’s contaminated with concern and Elrond wishes that he was not the cause of her pain. He feels his face flush before he can even speak his next words, but as much as it embarrasses him, he knows it will be for the best if he wishes to get to the halls of healing soon. “Will you-“ Elrond swallows, avoiding Galadriel’s eyes as he stammers for a moment. “I don’t know if I can walk.” He admits quietly, for his body is rebelling against his every order, and they are not far from the halls. He can see the moment Galadriel understands his request, because there is a smirk on her face as he easily lifts him in her arms.
“You are far too light,” Galadriel scolds as she begins walking, and Elrond simply hides his face in her shoulder and does not respond. He is taller than her, and yet she seems to carry him easily, as if he is still a child. The walk goes much faster now that Galadriel is no longer slowing herself down for him, and there is hardly time for his symptoms to get worse before Galadriel is setting him down on a bed and fetching a healer. Elrond blinks slowly, because his mind is starting to slow and his eyes are becoming sticky. He blinks again, and there is a healer there, asking him questions in a soft voice.
He explains what happened in slurred words, Galadriel watching with narrowed eyes as the healer went and fetched some sort of medication. If Elrond’s thoughts were not running away from him, he would know exactly what it was being offered to him in a small cup, but as his mind is a place of water, washing away everything he thinks as soon as he thinks it, he drinks the liquid and lays down at the healers prompting. Galadriel approaches and runs a hand through his hair, giving him a small smile as he leans into the touch with a content sigh.
“Rest up, my peredhel. I will inform Ereinion that you are out of commission.” She kisses the top of his head and leaves, and Elrond allows himself to drift for a moment, before snapping upright with a grimace. Gil-galad is going to fret over him so much!