Galad, for not the first time that night, but the first time while naked, pulled Felicity against him and wrapped them both in the large towel. He could feel her shivering even as he fought his own involuntary shakes.
The warmth from the fire gradually started to have a calming effect on him. He was holding Felicity, softly stroking her back under the blanket, his chin tucked against her wet hair. But his eyes were following his twin. He knew Gil had been scared.
"It's fine, Gil. Forget the kettle. Come here." He reached out a hand to his brother.
He couldn't live without either of them. It might be delirium setting in, or blood loss, or shock. But he realized that without Felicity, without Gilderoi, he was a shell. His need to comfort his brother battled with his need to keep Felicity safe and warm. He hoped he'd never have to choose one or the other.
"Tys, I'm okay." He spoke in their shorthand twin-speak. "Don't be mad. She needs help. Look at her." Galad looked down at Felicity and the she-elf was bedraggled, like a half-drowned cat. Once sleek and proud, perfectly manicured, she was now soaked and tangled, helpless. Galad felt a strong stewardship towards Felicity and it was helping him focus through the cold.