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“Come here Elrond.”
Elrond approached slowly, his stomach fluttering with nervousness.
Gil-Galad is kind to you. He reminded himself. He had no reason to be this nervous. But ever since Gil-Galad had begun calling Elrond to his bed…
“Yes my King?” He asked.
“I require something new tonight.” Gil-Galad’s tone was neutral, and he didn’t look up from his papers, but Elrond couldn’t help but feel a quiver of anticipation. Something new. He wasn’t sure whether to be excited or scared.
(Not scared. He scolded himself. Gil-Galad is good to you.)
“Yes my king?” Elrond repeated.
He gestured for Elrond to sit, and he did.
Gil-Galad set aside his papers and finally looked up at Elrond.
“If you are to be my herald, I’m going to need to be able to keep track of you.” He said, his tone serious but passive. “And so I will require a way to do that.”
Elrond’s eyes widened. He didn’t dare think- He shouldn’t assume-
“I would like access to your fëa.”
Elrond’s heart skipped a beat. He did? His- Gil-Galad wanted Ósanwe? With him?
“This is not a question, Elrond.” Gil-Galad said.
Elrond swallowed and blinked a few times. “I- yes my king.” He mentally scolded himself for stammering again. It was a horrible habit and Gil-Galad disliked it strongly.
To his immense relief, Gil-Galad smiled. “Good.” He said.
Elrond sat very still, unsure of quite what to do. Gil-Galad beckoned to him.
“Come here.” He said.
Elrond stood up and went over to him.
“Come. Sit on my lap.”
Elrond’s heart jumped into his throat. He knew he should not feel so nervous, should not feel a coil in his stomach that made him feel sick.
Just- just listen. Obey him. He gave you an order. Why aren’t you moving? Move. Why do you feel nervous? You have no reason to feel nervous. You just have to-
“Elrond.” Gil-Galad’s voice cut sharply through Elrond’s frantic thoughts. “Sit.”
Elrond obeyed without further hesitation, scolding himself over and over for being so nervous.
“Good boy.” Gil-Galad murmured.
Elrond gave a huge internal sigh of relief at the words. He was still pleasing. He was still good. He was good. He was good, he was good, he was good.
“Now come. Let’s get this done.”
Elrond nodded, not quite sure what to do.
“Just let me into your mind. Open up. Let me in. There. That’s a good boy.”
The nervous coil in his stomach turned to a warm, familiar feeling that always came with the knowledge that he was being good. It was always a relief to feel it.
When Gil-Galad pushed into Elrond’s mind, he was met with a barrier. He sighed and pressed against it. He had not been expecting to meet any resistance. He didn’t know Elrond knew how to make mental barriers. He vaguely wondered who had taught him.
Let me in. He sighed out in a thought, continuing to press against the barrier.
Elrond flushed. He hadn’t meant to put up his barrier, but he did it on instinct, as he used to when he was younger. Gil-Galad’s pressing wasn’t exactly gentle, and it was making an unwanted headache form behind his eyes, so he instantly let the barrier fall down.
As soon as he did, a cacophonous noise sprang up between the both of them and Gil-Galad instantly yanked himself free of Elrond’s mind.
Elrond’s eyes watered and he ducked his head. “I’m sorry!” He cried. “I don’t- I don’t mean to! It is just- just the way it is…” Elrond trailed off.
Gil-Galad sighed and made Elrond look back up at him.
“That is your Music?” He asked.
Elrond wanted to flinch away, because the distaste in Gil-Galad’s voice was palpable.
“I’m sorry.” Elrond whispered. “I don’t mean to cause you displeasure. It is simply the way- I do not know how to control it. I’m sorry-”
Gil-Galad shifted his demeanor. “Calm down Half-Elven. It’s alright.” He said. “Would you like me to help you? Don’t cry, Half-Elven, this is fixable. It’s alright. Would you like my help? To get control of your Music?”
Elrond wanted to cry. He did. He knew his Music was broken. That he was Dissonant. He did want help. He wanted Gil-Galad to fix him.
“Please?” He asked, because he also knew it would please Gil-Galad. That had been evident from his reaction to Elrond’s Music. He had not been Gil-Galad’s herald for that long, and he was determined to do well.
To be pleasing.
If he was pleasing, Gil-Galad would let him stay.
He would keep him around.
He just had to be good enough.
“Alright. Then let me in. And do try to… suppress your Theme.”
Elrond again flinched internally. He knew that Gil-Galad did not mean it as an insult. He was simply trying to correct this fault of Elrond’s. Elrond knew that his Theme was different. That it was Wrong, and Dissonant. But that didn’t make his words hurt any less.
As Gil-Galad pushed back into his mind, Elrond desperately tried to quiet his Music, to change it into something that could be at least a little more tolerable to Gil-Galad.
“Good boy.” Gil-Galad murmured. “You are taking me so well.”
Elrond felt a wave of relief wash over him.
Gil-Galad talked him through it with unusual patience.
“Just try to slow down. Quieter. Slower. There you go. Good boy.”
Elrond tried desperately to match what Gil-Galad was showing him. He dragged his Music out until it matched the tempo, then silenced everything that was distinctly wrong and Dissonant in his Theme.
Yield.
The thought came to Elrond as a gentle but stern command. He rearranged himself until Gil-Galad could get into his Theme.
And in one forceful press that hurt Elrond’s head, his Music snapped into time with Gil-Galad’s.
He felt the tension between them dissipate. “Good boy.” He hazily heard Gil-Galad murmur. His head ached like it had just been struck between a hammer and an anvil. The horrible ringing in his head wouldn’t go away.
…
But his Music would be tolerable now. So it was worth it.