Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and I make no money from writing about them.
"Estel. You will not move from that bed until your father tells you that you may."
We have reached a quiet moment. My twin is sitting by the fire, and only his hands gripping the armrests give away his emotions.
Estel appears, from the furrow in his brow, to be thinking. He is sitting cross-legged in a nest of sheets and blankets in the middle of his bed. He looks hot and dishevelled but far from beaten. He is made of stern stuff, this little brother of mine.
"Two days," he says at last.
"Yes," Elrohir confirms.
I make myself comfortable on the bench by the window. This is going to be interesting.
"So I was in bed all yesterday," Estel says, looking at his hands. He has laced his fingers together and is studying them as if this is the first time he has tried this particular trick.
"Most of it," Elrohir corrects. "After you stole the pony, fell off it and walked home again."
"It was still the morning."
I look at Elrohir. He is not smiling. He nods at the boy. "It was."
"And now it is the afternoon of the second day. So I am getting up. I don't want to be in this bed any longer. I am well and I want to meet the people who are coming to the conference."
Estel has a point. But he is bending the truth a little to make it. However, he is almost out of bed now and Elrohir, I know, will have none of it. Two full days, my father said. More, perhaps, for the boy is not altogether well yet. I think it is the frustration of having to lie in bed that is making him ill. My brother disagrees with me and so does my father, who has already checked on Estel and says he still has a low fever.
So now it is a battle of wills between us. We do not use physical force on him. We would not do so. But some way must be found, some middle course. Perhaps that is what I can offer him.
"May I suggest something?" I say, not completely sure what the answer will be from either of my brothers, foster or blood.
Two pairs of eyes look at me. Since Elrohir is silent I press on.
"Estel – you have not yet had enough time to recover."
He sighs but at least he settles back into his nest. He had been ready to bolt for the door.
"But I think we could consent to you sitting out of bed for an hour. The bed could be aired and have fresh linens. Then, I think, if you sat here, you could see some of those people who are arriving."
His eyes are bright now with enthusiasm. It is a start.
"Can I get dressed?"
At least he is prepared to negotiate. I call on all my skills as an ambassador.
"You must wear a robe over your nightshirt, and you must sit with a blanket over you. If you do this, tomorrow will come more quickly and perhaps you will be able to meet one or two people then."
My brother glances at me. I am offering him what I should not, what my father may not permit, but already I have plans to invite a guest or two to his room. That should be safe enough.
My small brother sighs. It appears he has given in. Unfortunately, Elrohir does not read the sigh in the way I do.
"You will behave yourself, Estel! We have brought you up with better manners than this! You will do as your Papa says, and you will stay here."
I sigh inwardly. Perhaps my twin is tired, or perhaps he is simply tired of dealing with nine-year-old boys with minds of their own. But he could not have said anything worse.
"I do do as I'm told! I've been doing it for hours and hours and hours! I've read and done my lessons and played with Halbarad until you sent him away and now I'm not staying here any longer! I'm too hot and this bed hurts and I want to get up!" He is shouting now and hitting at the bed as if it has indeed hurt him. He is getting beyond himself, as he did when he was two and couldn't say what it was that was frustrating him. It is a measure of his illness, I thought, but again Elrohir has reached different conclusions.
"Do not shout! You will not get what you want by shouting!" Elrohir goes closer to Estel, towering over him, but the boy on the bed is undaunted.
"I'm not shouting! I'm just …" he searched for a word, "I'm just talking! Only it's loud!"
Probably the snort of laughter which escaped me didn't help. The boy may have been too far gone by then to notice. But he squirmed out of bed, and was past both of us before we could think of making a grab for him. Clearly some part of his brain was still working, since he made for the window rather than the door, which would have meant almost immediate confrontation with his father.
"I want to sit here, like Elladan said." He is half-sobbing, gulping in air and, now that I look at him, trying hard to master himself. In a few moments he offers something from his side of the negotiation. "I'll be quiet." He hangs his head.
Now that the tempest has passed, for a moment at least, I take Elrohir's arm to try to prevent him from speaking.
"That is not enough, Estel," I say. It will not be good for him to feel he has outwitted us. He treads a narrow path. He must be confident in himself yet not arrogant. Yet neither must I bully him into submission, as Elrohir appears to be trying to do.
"I'm not going back to bed," Estel says quietly. "I'm not!"
"You will come here, boy," I say, keeping my voice as calm as I can. "And you will be dressed as I have said. Elrohir will move your chair to the window and I will bring a blanket for you. Is that understood?"
The boy, still red-faced and teetering on the edge of another outburst, looks me right in the eye. It is, for a moment, an unnerving experience. He is searching for something, for a weakness in my resolve, perhaps, or forgiveness – I cannot tell. He says nothing for a long-held breath then makes his decision.
He stands up and trails back to me. Elrohir has finally seen sense and fetches Estel's robe, handing it to me with an unreadable expression. He and I will need to talk later. He then goes to move the chair to the window, and ties back the curtain. I help Estel to put on his robe, checking that his arm is securely in its sling, then, as I tie the belt round his waist he whispers to me.
"Why is he so cross?" He looks at Elrohir.
I whisper back, to preserve the fiction that we cannot be heard. "We are both tired, Estel. Perhaps he is hungry, too. You know how you are when you are hungry."
He nods. He knows that he is, as his father put it, like a bear without his honey, when he is hungry. "I didn't mean to shout."
"I know," I say, drawing him a little closer. "You must be calm and let us help you get well. Then you and I can work with your pony. Do you have a name for him yet?"
"Spider," he says, unhesitatingly.
I hear Elrohir's stifled reaction behind me. He covers it with an exclamation. "Look, Estel! Come and see who is here!"
The boy goes quickly to his side and I am left to puzzle over the name. Spider. Well, it is – it is an adventurous name. I must ask him why, later.
He is standing next to my brother now, who is pointing people out to him, headmen from the local towns and settlements, and more of the tall, grey-clad folk who will one day bow to Estel as their captain. Elrohir is giving Estel their names, and the boy nods solemnly and repeats them to himself.
I go to the door and ask the servant who is passing to make up Estel's bed. He will have something to eat, too, but he will not leave his room. We have promised that to my father. Estel must not leave his room tonight, or tomorrow morning.
For the conference is about him, about my small brother, who is now sitting in the chair and leaning on Elrohir, watching another small group of people walk up the path to our door. A few of those who come are not here to talk about the growing number of orcs, or the numbers of stock animals taken by wolves. A few of the most important are here to discuss how to keep Estel hidden.
And it is most important Estel does not know this, for in his ignorance lies one of our greatest strengths.
There, he is sleepier now and will barely last the hour I have allowed him. His bed is not ready yet, though, and needs to be aired for a while before he goes back to it. I wonder for a moment if we will have a battle to get him to stay up but I know he is too tired. It is right that he should try asserting his will. He must become a man in a very few years. Yet I would keep him a child for a little longer.
My father chooses this moment to enter the room. I take his arm to slow his pace and he looks at me quizzically.
"Estel is learning the names of those who will attend the meeting tomorrow," I say, trying to judge my father's mood. "While his bed linen is being refreshed, we thought he might pass the time in a new lesson for him."
My father smiles. He knows immediately what has happened, for he reads it in the anxiety in my voice and the small traces of remaining anger in my brother's glance. But most of all he sees that Estel has fought a small battle and has been – not defeated, exactly, but side-tracked.
"I thought perhaps we could allow him to meet someone tomorrow morning, someone who would enjoy hearing of his adventures."
Elrond's gaze has not left Estel but I have his attention.
"Yes. Yes, I think that would be a good idea," my father says.
"Really, Papa?" Estel says seriously. "May I meet someone who knows about the outside? About places far away?"
My father smiles. It is a rare thing these days and Estel looks curiously at him.
"I haven't been very good," the boy says. It is as if the smile fetched out the confession.
"Haven't you? I wondered if I heard raised voices. Do you hate me for confining you to bed?" My father's voice is deep and quiet, meant only for my little brother.
"No, Papa!"
Elrohir leaves his post at his brother's side and Elrond goes to talk to his foster son. We leave them to their quiet conversation. Elrond will give him his food and medicine and all will be well again.
We must become the hosts in our father's absence. As I wash my hands and reach for the circlet I shall wear on my head at the meal tonight, I see Estel, angry, shouting at us. I am suddenly afraid for him, for the future he must face. Have we made him stronger tonight, or weaker? I do not know.
Perhaps someone wiser than my brother or myself will be able to tell us tomorrow just how well we have done in raising the king that will be.