Gilraen's anniversary being midsummer isn't canon, but I have seen it around, so it may be accurately classed as fanon. At any rate, its certainly head!canon for me.
Gilraen wandered aimlessly through the beautiful gardens of Rivendell. If she were to be honest with herself, she was running. Running from the memories of the day. It was midsummer. Her anniversary.
She pushed that thought away. She wasn't trying to run from the past, she just wanted to be alone. She didn't care to join in the celebrations. There was nothing to celebrate. Not anymore.
Rounding a corner she came across a small hidden bench. An occupied, small hidden bench. The elf lord seated there looked up as she came into view.
Gilraen had always been more than slightly intimidated by Lord Glorfindel. Over her years in Rivendell she had come to know many of its inhabitants, even counted some of them her friends. But Glorfindel was different. He was otherworldly, even compared to the other elves. There was a distinct sense that he had seen more than any mortal, and many elves for that matter, could ever hope to comprehend.
"I am sorry, my lord. I did not mean to intrude." Gilraen dipped her head briefly, but then looked up, curiosity glowing in her soft grey eyes. "You are not joining the celebrations?" She asked, hesitant, not wanting to offend.
Glorfindel gave a soft, bittersweet smile. "No, my lady. You are not the only one who mourns rather than celebrates this day."
Gilraen hesitantly sat beside him, staring at the flowers in front of her. "I think my mother knew my happiness would be short lived. She told me to make every moment I had special, to remember it with fondness when it ended." She gave a short bitter laugh. "But I cannot seem to. All I see is bitterness when I look back."
Glorfindel glanced at her sidelong. "There are good memories, surely." He said softly. She looked up, and her smile was wistful, longing. Something he could understand completely.
"Oh, yes." She breathed. "I can still remember when we were courting. How we danced, how he loved me. The way his eyes shown when he looked at me, or our son. He was considered stern by many, but he had a soft side few ever saw. I loved him so." She glanced at Glorfindel, wondering.
He hesitated. Sharing memories and stories of those gone was not the elven way, and he was loth to burden her with his grief, but she had shared hers with him. Maybe it would help…
"I remember when I first saw what would become Gondolin…"
Leaving Estel firmly entertained with the twins and Erestor, Elrond started searching. He hadn't seen Glorfindel or Gilraen this night. Both would be hurting, and missing what they had lost. Perhaps he could give some small comfort.
He began searching through the gardens, where he knew Glorfindel liked to spend this anniversary. He was just coming up on a small hidden bench when he heard voices. Carefully, silently, he moved to where he could see, but not be seen.
On the bench were the two objects of his search. They were talking, sharing the sadness and loss they had carried inside, alone, for far too long. He watched, as the grief in their eyes was tempered by understanding. Smiling softly to himself, he silently moved off to rejoin the celebration. His inadequate words of comfort would not be needed tonight.
Erestor looked up as Elrond returned, a silent question posed by the slight raise of his eyebrows. "They are together, talking." He murmured, too softly for anyone other than Erestor to catch. Erestor nodded slightly. "He will be able to help her, if anyone can." He replied softly.
Elrond nodded, but knew that the help was mutual, that both of those lost souls were taking comfort in knowing they weren't the only ones hurting, that someone else understood. Sometimes, words weren't enough.