Making his own way to the balcony from his bed had seemed such a simple thing.

Estel had been doing it with his foster brother's assistance for several days and had even managed to sit on the edge of the bed to use the chamber pot. The first time he had used it unaided he had felt freer than he had standing atop a mountain. It was the first symbol that he was back in charge of his own life. Until then he had never realised how ecstatic he could feel about peeing alone and Elrohir had arrived a few minutes later to find his foster brother lying on his back, grinning stupidly at the ceiling with the thunder mug clenched in both hands on his stomach, for all the world like the tomb effigy of some ancient king, clutching his crown.

Estel had continued to grin all the way through Elrohir's lecture. Eventually, Elrohir had simply thrown his hands in the air, snatched the pot and taken it away to empty and clean. If he reported it to Elrond, Estel suffered no repercussions and accepted it as a small triumph.

It was two days later, still flushed with his success with the chamber pot, that Estel decided to surprise everyone with his swift recovery by walking to the balcony on his own.

Deciding that he ought to appease his foster father in some way, Estel took time to don the heavy dressing robe before standing, even though it was still too long and there was way too much fabric for his taste. Elladan had brought him a beautiful walking stick a few days earlier and Estel took it in one hand, whilst gathering up some of the extra fabric of the robe in his other.

Slowly, he pushed up from the bedside, leaning more heavily than he would have liked upon the stick. The room began to perform lazy rotations and his knees trembled as he waited for the world to stand still. After what felt like an age the walls ceased their gyrations and Estel let out a sigh of relief.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted the stick, wobbling alarmingly before planting it down swiftly only a few inches in front of him. Walking was a lot easier with an elf beneath each arm, he decided. Having committed himself however, he determined to continue. It was only twelve steps to the chair so it could only be a few more to the balcony.

Deciding to err upon the side of caution for once he slid his foot up to the stick, rather than trying to lift it. When the room remained still and his knees were still supporting him he decided to throw caution to the winds and actually lifted his other foot before bringing it level with the first. He grinned. Indeed, had he the balance required he would have performed a jig.

Another breath and another step. Now he was truly committed for there were no more pieces of furniture to rescue him until he reached the chair by the window, ten steps distant. He paused to consider this for a moment because he could see a couple of tiny yellow motes dancing at the edge of his vision. Two steps behind him was the bed and if he turned around nobody would be any the wiser. He could try again another day.

"No". Clenching his jaw Estel took another shuffling step. The two tiny yellow motes spawned a couple more. "Like bloody rabbits," he muttered as he took another step closer to the haven of the chair. Somewhere between one step and the next he discovered he had determined that chair, rather than balcony, was now his goal. Now Estel was truly in no-man's land for both chair and bed were out of reach.

Pausing to take a couple of deep breaths Estel could feel his knees beginning to tremble in earnest now and he was hot and perspiring heavily. "Bloody robe." Even as he had that thought the fabric he had gathered so carefully out of his way began to shift on his arm. He made a mental note never to wear anything loaned by his foster father again as the whole slid from his grip in an avalanche of heavy brocade and satin.

Later, Estel decided that if he had just let it slide he would probably have managed to keep his balance. But instinct took over and he made a grab for it. The sudden movement was too much for his already protesting knees and they began to fold. One staggering step forward and his foot caught in the hem. With the stick in one hand and a snatched bundle of fabric in the other he had no means to break his fall and the floor tilted up to meet his chin with a resounding thump which added red stars to the yellow motes. "Bloody floor," was all he managed to mumble before his world went black.

oOo

"Estel?" It was Elladan's voice and he sounded concerned.

Estel opened his eyes to a veritable party of yellow spots dancing across his vision. Not content with performing a sedate gavotte they seemed to have taken up a country reel and he snapped his eyes shut at once.

"Damn it, Little Brother. Adar will have both our hides for this. What were you thinking?"

Finding his mouth full of liquid, Estel swallowed before replying, recognising at once the salt-metallic taste of blood. "Wanted to walk," was all he could manage and he winced for it hurt his lip. "Ouch."

"Alright. Open your eyes. Let me see if you have done any serious damage."

Estel wanted to tell him that it was his lip that hurt, not his eyes, but decided to obey. He was not surprised when the yellow motes, who seemed to have multiplied at a rate that would have put rabbits to shame, resumed their wild Morris dance. Beyond them he met Elladan's concerned gaze.

"Well. You don't seem to have hit your head too hard this time. But with that cut lip we are not going to be able to keep this from Adar."

Estel lay unprotesting as his brother felt along arms and legs. Apparently happy with what he found he gently rolled Estel onto his back, resulting in him being wrapped, cocoon-like in his robe. Rather than try to disentangle him Elladan simply scooped him up like a babe and deposited him upon the bed. Estel amused himself trying to count yellow motes as Elladan unravelled him, only scowling when he announced, "And you've got blood on Adar's robe."

How could it be any worse? At that moment the door opened to admit Elrond and Gilraen and Estel moaned, wondering if he could dissemble unconsciousness well enough to fool either of them. One glance at his mother's thunderous countenance put an end to that half formed idea.

Gilraen hurried to the bed and automatically began to assist Elladan in wrestling Estel back beneath the covers he had just fought so hard to escape. Now he was beginning to regain some control of his senses anger rose to the surface and he slapped their hands away. "I'm alright! Leave me be."

All movement ceased at once, and then Elrond stepped to the fore. "Lady Gilraen, I believe Estel would appreciate a few minutes to recover his equilibrium and I need to perform a proper examination. Perhaps Elladan could escort you to your chamber for a little while. I shall attend you there shortly."

For a moment the lady looked as though she would argue but, with one final glance at her son's bloodied chin, she nodded and Elladan ushered her gently from the room.

For a moment the healer studied Estel's eyes then, seemingly content with what he found, Elrond busied himself filling a basin with water and gathering a tray of herbs and cloths. By the time he returned to the bedside Estel was feeling more contrite. "I am thorry," were the first words he slurred as his foster father settled upon the edge of the bed.

As always, Elrond did not sugar coat his reply. "And so should you be. I shall convey your apologies to your mother." He dabbed away the blood from Estel's chin then gently tugged down the lip to examine the interior of his charge's mouth.

Unable to reply with his lip held fast in his foster father's fingers, Estel settled upon compliance.

"This is superficial," Elrond announced quietly. "It will cease to bleed with a little cold and pressure." Estel hissed when he gently prized apart the edges of the cut, dribbling in a little water to ensure it was clean. The bleeding restarted but he gently pressed a cool, damp cloth to the hurt. Estel mused that his foster father now had him at his mercy and was not surprised when Elrond continued his mild censure.

"You are a young man and it is the duty of young men to test their wings. But I do not believe you fully grasp the seriousness of the illness from which you are still recovering. In that I consider myself to be partially at fault. I did not wish to alarm you unduly."

Elrond removed the cloth to check on the progress of Estel's lip and the youth took the opportunity to reply. "It was a knock on the head. I've had them before in sword training."

The cloth was replaced and Elrond's brows arranged themselves into an elegant frown. Even after all these years Estel was envious of the way all elves did everything so elegantly. He always felt like a newborn colt in their presence.

"Estel, this was no tap on the head with a practice blade. Had the injury happened anywhere else you would have died. Even here, had your brother's not rushed you home you could still have died, or become permanently disabled." Elrond gave Estel time to absorb that sobering information before continuing. "You are recovering very well but it will take time. Your body has had an enormous shock." He lifted his hand to check the injury again, rinsing the cloth in more cold water.

Estel took advantage of the respite. "I am no elf. Time is precious to a mortal and I do not wish to spend it lying in a bed."

Elrond evinced a rare huff of exasperation as he pressed the cool cloth to Estel's lip once more. "Which sounds better to you . . . a few weeks in bed, following my instruction, or several months if you follow your own path? Your body will heal more swiftly if you allow it to rest. You are from a long lived and healthy people and you have youth on your side but even you cannot force healing."

When the cloth was removed again Estel made one last, half hearted attempt. "Can you not force the healing? I am losing my mind sitting here doing nothing."

Seemingly content with the progress of the lip Elrond set the cloth aside, washing and drying his hands. "I have much skill in healing. But there are things even I cannot do. The speed of your recovery is now dependent upon you. You wanted responsibility. Well, here it is. The first lesson we all learn is to take responsibility for our own minds and bodies."

His foster father rose to leave, taking care to collect both robe and stick. "I shall leave you with that thought. You mother will be anxiously awaiting news of her only child's health. It is time I set her mind at rest." At the doorway Elrond turned to fix Estel with a firm gaze. "I trust that I may now do that?" Not waiting for Estel's reply he departed.

Estel allowed his body to recover at its own pace after that, which did not preclude the occasional fretful outburst. But he progressed from his chair by the window to the couch in a garden pavilion, at first with the help of his foster brothers but eventually with his stick. Dogged by weakness, the disturbances to his vision were quicker to fade but he began to make his way slowly in the world once more; at least the world as encompassed by house and gardens.