Erestor strode purposefully down the hall towards his Lord's study, clutching a game board securely to his chest. It was a small, wooden chessboard, a gift from his younger brother back home, who was eager to show off his growing skill with woodcraft. Erestor had already sent a return letter, promising to try out the board as soon as he could, and he was now on his way to make good on that promise. Stepping through the doorway of Elrond's office, he greeted his Lord brightly.

"Good afternoon, Lord Elrond. Care for a game of chess?"

The Peredhel sat hunched over his desk, impatiently brushing back the dark hair that fell in front of his eyes as he studied a parchment rather intently. "Not at the moment, Erestor," he replied, barely lifting his eyes in acknowledgment. "I'm busy right now."

Erestor nodded his understanding, stepping forward slightly to peer at the parchment as well. A wicked grin spread across his face as he caught sight of the Mirkwood royal seal on the letter.

"A love letter from your golden king?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Elrond instantly turned beet red, sitting up straight in his chair and sputtering indignantly. "Of course not!" he denied. "This is business!"

"Oh, I'm sure this letter is," the chief advisor continued to tease, lifting the edge of the parchment to peek underneath it, "but where are you hiding the personal note Thranduil sent along with it? You know, the one where he mentions how he longs to feel your strong arms around him, and your warm lips on his skin, and your eager c--"

"ERESTOR, REALLY!!"

"I was going to say 'caresses'..."

"I'm quite sure!" The Half-Elf snatched the documents and every other bit of parchment on his desk away from Erestor's curious fingers and glared, his cheeks still flaming. "You know that my relationship with King Thranduil is strictly diplomatic, Erestor. If you persist with this childish behavior, I'll have to ask you to leave my office before I do something regrettable to you."

Erestor only grinned broader, not at all intimidated by the threat. "You are blushing, my Lord," he observed, cocking his head to the side, his voice dripping with mirth. "I think you looooove him."

That was all Elrond could tolerate.

"Out!" he roared, standing and grabbing a large book from his desk, pulling his arm back threateningly. "Out, out, OUT!!!!"

Giggling like a naughty Elfling, Erestor scampered out of the study, slamming the door behind him in time to hear the book impact it with a loud THUD. But Elrond was hardly the only potential chess partner in the house, so, still grinning, he changed course to the library and continued on his merry way, singing quietly to himself.

"Elrond and Thranduil, living in a tree..."

One of the library's two large hardwood doors was standing open, and Erestor poked his head inside, smiling at the sight of two of his friends within.

"Melpomaen, Saelbeth," he greeted, brandishing the chessboard playfully, "do either of you dare to face me on the field of intellectual battle?"

Figwit laughed at this, turning his head toward the library entrance, which was quite a risky thing to do as he was currently in the process of balancing several books on it. Saelbeth sat at a table nearby, watching the young Elf with an air of great resignation as the tower of tomes grew taller.

"Maybe later, 'Restor," Figwit grinned. "I'm trying to break my record. But 'Beth might want to." He paused to concentrate on carefully placing another large volume on the precarious stack on his noggin. "And seven..."

"Oh, no... no..." Saelbeth sighed, eyes still on Melpomaen, his concern apparently outweighing his distaste at being called "'Beth." "I think I ought to stay here to..." But he did not bother to explain what he was staying for; he merely trailed off with another sigh.

"Very well," Erestor said, giving Saelbeth a sympathetic smile. He turned his gaze back to the young redhead, who was reaching up to try for eight. "I wish you luck, Fig," he added before quickly retreating away from the room, not at all keen on witnessing the absurd Elf's inevitable failure or on helping to clean up the resulting property damage. Poor Saelbeth.

Even after three playmate candidates had been eliminated, Erestor remained undaunted. His next stop was the gardens. Lindir and Galdor could usually be found there, practicing their newest songs, holding hands, necking, and generally being almost disgustingly adorable together. Neither of them was overtly fond of chess, but a little ego-stroking and being allowed to play two-against-one on Erestor was often all it took to convince them to play.

"Hey, Lindir! Galdor!" he called out upon entering the gardens. "Come and play chess with me." He paused a moment to listen for an answer, then continued. "Come on, you can try out your new songs on me. I'll give you top billing for the next Hall of Fire performance. ...I'll name my firstborn child after one of you!" He frowned. "Where are you two?"

Still receiving no answer, he walked further into the gardens and cast his gaze around the area. A pair of instruments lay abandoned on their usual bench, but neither the Sinda nor Sea-Elf were anywhere in sight.

"Mmm, probably taking a little stroll together," he thought aloud to himself as he walked. "Walking hand-in-hand, whispering sweet little nonsense, making plans for the future..." He sighed wistfully. "Sounds pretty nice..."

"Mmph!"

Erestor stopped short at the soft noise, looking around once more. Again seeing no one, he strained his ears to catch any nearby sound.

"Mmm... Ah!"

"Shh, shh, melamin. He'll hear us."

A giggle. "S-sorry, laer-nin."

His ears twitched, divining that the voices were coming from behind a large rosebush. So, the precious imps thought they could hide from him, did they? Smirking in triumph, he tip-toed over to the plant and stuck his head around the side.

"Ha! Come out, come out, wherever you-- Oh!!"

He stumbled back from the roses in surprise, blushing furiously. "Sorry!" he squeaked out through his embarrassment as the disheveled heads of Lindir and Galdor peered timidly over the bush, both looking frustrated and sheepish.

"Erestor..." Lindir began, running a hand through his tangled and twiggy hair. He was flush-faced from his activities and utterly avoiding eye contact with the counselor. "Was there, um... something you wanted?"

"Y-yes," Erestor stuttered in sudden amusement, pressing his knuckles against his mouth lest he burst into inappropriate laughter. "I was w-wondering if you wanted to play chess, b-but I can see that you're busy p-playing something else right now..."

Galdor blushed dark at this and ducked back behind the rosebush. Lindir cleared his throat. "Yes, um, quite." He took a breath, mastering his discomfort. "And as... thrilling as a game of chess sounds... we... would much rather continue with our... other game... ah, already in progress."

"I understand completely," Erestor assured, a wide grin on his face. "Do enjoy yourselves. And Galdor," he compounded, nodding to the silver-haired Teler as he dared to peek over the bush again. He gave him a wink. "I can see that the flute and lyre aren't the only instruments Lindir excels at playing. Good for you."

Galdor blushed even darker, hid his face in his hands, and dissolved into a fit of embarrassed giggles on Lindir's shoulder.

"Good-bye, Erestor," the Sinda stressed, pulling Galdor protectively against himself, yet not able to help a smug smile.

"Goodbye!" the counselor answered gaily, turning his back and leaving the lovers to their play, smiling to himself as he heard Galdor's giggles melt into quiet sounds of pleasure.

But now he did find himself in a bit of a quandary. With Elrond, Figwit, Saelbeth, and the song-birds all otherwise occupied, who was left for him to while away the afternoon with? There were, of course, dozens of other occupants up and about within the Homely House, even many who enjoyed chess, but very few could provide him with a fair challenge. The twins perhaps, but given the choice between a quiet game of chess indoors and riding wild through the valley on a gorgeous, spring day--

"Oh, but of course!" he suddenly cried, turning back toward the House and dashing up the stairs. The solution was so obvious he marveled that he hadn't thought of it from the very start.

He skidded to a stop short of room he wanted, taking a moment to catch his breath and prepare himself: he snuggled the chessboard tight against his chest and made sure a few stray bangs hung in front of his eyes in the cutest possible way before stepping into the open doorway.

"Glorfindel," he breathed in his best beseeching voice while giving his best eyelash-batting, "would you like to play chess with me?"

The Balrog-Slayer looked up from the book he was reading and once again proved to the advisor that he was an absolute sucker for the "cute act." He set his book aside immediately and stood to welcome his friend into his room, looking genuinely pleased to see him.

"I couldn't dream of a better way to spend the afternoon," he said, flashing one of his oh-so-charming grins.

"Honestly?" Erestor asked, dropping his cute act just as swiftly and returning his grin with an eyebrow quirk.

"No, I lied. I can think of something better." Glorfindel's grin widened. "But I wouldn't dare to dream you came here for that."

He was rewarded with a chuckle from the dark-haired counselor and the appealing show of him sauntering haughtily into the room. It had been a lie, at least in part. Chess in itself would hardly provide for what he considered an enjoyable evening, but Erestor's presence made even the most mundane of activities highly entertaining. He cleared off a small table by the window for Erestor to set the little wooden board on.

"Another present from your whittle-happy sibling?"

"Aye," Erestor affirmed, reaching into an inner pocket of his robes for a small pouch containing little wooden chessmen, also carved by his brother. "You're the only one in the Valley that wants to play with me, Glorfindel," he said, treating the Slayer to a grateful smile. "Everyone else was... otherwise occupied."

"It's my pleasure, Erestor, really." There was that smile again, the one that made you believe every word that fell from his lips, even when it was obvious nonsense. "But don't think too badly of the others," he continued with a small laugh. "Chess isn't exactly what most people would call exciting."

Erestor had suddenly walked back across the room to the door. "That's only because they've never played by my rules."

Glorfindel watched in confusion as he closed and locked the door. "Your rules?" he parroted before smiling indulgently. "What rules?"

"First of all," the advisor began, returning to the table, "socks and shoes each count as one item. Any jewelry or hair accessories likewise count as an item altogether. One item is removed for every second pawn captured, but the other pieces equal one item each. In the unlikely event that you've already removed all possible articles of clothing before the checkmate... well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he assured, sitting down across from the stunned seneschal, and began to set the board. "I'm black, all right?"

Glorfindel could only nod in response, wet his lips, and seriously reconsider his policy on daring to dream.