I would like to apologize to my readers on for not answering reviews for the last three months. I broke my left wrist (and oh joy, I'm left-handed) quite badly, requiring surgery, pins, and other fun stuff. Then I used my right hand so much to compensate, that I got tendinitis in that hand so I couldn't even type one-handed. I'm so far behind that I am not going to try to answer past reviews, but I want you to know that I read them all and I appreciated every single one. This is a ficlet I finished just before I broke my arm that was written in response to the prompt: Mishap. As you'll see, the subject matter is rather ironical, considering.

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"Lord Elrond! There has been an accident!"

The Lord of Imladris turned from the bookshelf he had been perusing and asked calmly, "What has happened?"

The young elf panted, "By the second cascade…Estel and Erestor…broken arm…hit his head…the boy is dreadfully upset, crying and covered in blood!"

The calm became rigidly controlled apprehension. "Is someone with them?"

"No, for I was coming home alone from the south gardens. I thought only to get help."

"How badly is Estel injured?"

"I – I do not know. I just saw blood and the boy so white and shaking – Erester shouted at me to go for aid, so I just…I just ran."

Elrond bit back angry words; there was no point chastising a youngling who had little training or experience with medical emergencies. "There was little else you could do. Help us further by calling for a litter to meet me there, and show the bearers the way."

As the young elf drew a calming breath, Elrond spun away, his over-robe sliding over his shoulders and soaring several feet before settling to the floor. As he strode from the room in tunic and leggings he leaned down without a pause, dragging a haversack filled with medical supplies from its shelf near the door.

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"Estel, you must stop carrying on like this. It is just a broken arm and your father will be here soon. The more you move about, the more painful it will be."

"But there is bone sticking out! Oh, Erestor, I think I am going to be sick!"

Erestor felt a bit green about the gills himself, gazing at the small shards of white that emerged from their bloody bed. He reached out and pushed dark hair back from the child's face. "I know it looks dreadful, Estel, but your father has seen far worse. A few days in the healing rooms and we will be back to our lessons in no time, you will see."

"It is going to hurt awfully when Ada straightens it!"

Long fingers gentled the wet cheeks. "Yes, I expect it will, but your father will give you some special tea that will help to settle you. He will give it to both of us, no doubt, for my own nerves are a bit stretched at the moment. It will be a long time before I forget seeing you fall off that rock! But all will soon be well, and after the tea we will desire nothing so much as a nice nap."

Estel's eyes were wide with shock and fear, and he forgot for a moment that he was a very brave young man. "Will you stay with me? For the nap?"

Erestor smiled wryly, "I doubt your father will allow it. Besides, your brothers are home and as soon as they hear about what has happened, they will be by your side. Indeed, I am surprised they are not here already."

Normally the mention of Elladan and Elrohir would cheer Estel, but now he just pressed closer into Erestor's side. The hand that had stroked Estel's face eased around the boy's shoulders, taking care not to jar the injured arm. Muffled sobs could be heard close to the elf's armpit. Erestor grimaced and drew a shaking breath. //Elrond, blast it, where are you?//

As if summoned, Elrond's voice was heard calling from a distance. "Erestor! Estel!"

"Here! Behind the granite outcropping!" Erestor sagged with relief. "Estel, your father has found us."

Elrond broke through some bushes and into the clearing surrounding a jutting rock formation. His eyes found Estel at once, sitting on the ground next to Erestor, their backs pressed against the granite that towered over them. The boy's hands were covered in gore and there were ominous splotches on face and clothing. Estel scrambled up and ran to his father, throwing his arms around him, trying to speak around his sobs. "Ada, it was terrible! Erestor told me not to but I did and I fell and it was so far down but Erestor jumped under me and I b – broke his arm and his head! Please fix him now, Ada, he must hurt so much!"

Elrond's head, lowered to inspect his son, jerked up and took in the sight of his Chief Councilor. A very rough bandage had been tied around Erestor's head, lumpy and twisted and stained scarlet over an alarming expanse. The habitually pale complexion had the sheen of cold perspiration and a distinct gray tinge.

Frowning under his lord's dumbfounded regard, Erestor struggled to his feet, wincingly careful of his broken arm. "Do not stand there like a stock, Elrond. I merely had a slight mishap."

As Elrond started toward Erestor, Estel slipped past and slung an arm around the advisor's waist, jostling him enough for his knees to buckle. Elrond quickly supported the shattered forearm, and said even as he assessed the break, "Hold on, my friend, there is a litter coming behind me, and poppy syrup in my pouch. We will soon have you more comfortable."

Erestor grumbled, "Always the healer's 'we'. I have told you before it makes you sound demented, not to mention being extremely annoying." The injured elf shot a glance at the worried child who still held him tightly. "Besides, I have been well taken care of by this young healer - one who somehow manages to refer to himself in the singular, I might add."

Elrond smiled at Estel's anxious expression. "I see that you have been in good hands."

Estel hurried into speech. "I only had one shirt so I thought the cut on his head was most important. I…I…was afraid to touch his arm. I'm sorry, Ada."

"You did well, my son. You knew help was not far away so you decided to wait for me. That was the best thing you could have done. You stopped the bleeding from his head wound, which was the more immediately dangerous. And I am sure you kept our dear Erestor from injuring himself further."

Erestor snorted, but the bustle of elves arriving with the litter covered the sound. Elladan and Elrohir had brought the litter themselves, and soon a small procession was making its way back to the Last Homely House. First came a young elf of the household, trotting ahead to select the clearest path for the litter to traverse. Then came Elrohir, walking easily between the shafts at the head of the litter. Gently swaying, Erestor rode with his arm padded against vibrations, well sedated and humming happily. Estel knelt between Erestor's ankles, cleansed of dirt and blood and keeping a proprietary eye on his patient. Elrond walked alongside the litter, watching Erestor for signs of shock and planning the coming surgery out in his mind. At the end of the procession Elladan carried the foot of the litter—occasionally teasing Estel by staggering slightly and moaning about the weight of humans.

Estel frowned as austerely as Erestor ever had. "Elladan, stop shaking Erestor! He is in pain and you must be more careful."

"Hmmmm. Hmm. Hmmmmmmm," hummed Erestor.

Elladan laughed. "I do not think he is in much pain, Estel!"

Ignoring brothers who have no comprehension of the seriousness of the healer's art, Estel patted Erestor on the knee. "Do not worry, Erestor. We will be home soon, and Ada will fix your arm."

Erestor smiled beatifically and tapped Estel with the side of his foot in a gentle rhythm that matched music only he could hear. "Hmm. Hmm. Hmmmmmm."

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