At first Faelon didn't recognise the chief advisor hurrying down the hallway, as only Erestor's eyes were visible above the enormous pile of books he was carrying. "Do you want a hand there?" he asked courteously, pointing to the stack.
Erestor considered for a moment then accepted the offer. "I'm taking them to Rúmil's chambers - I found him in the library earlier, and he asked me if I knew whether Lord Elrond had a complete set of Daeron's early compositions."
Faelon knew that Elrond, but they were kept in the Master of Imladris's personal study. A complete set of the works was now a rare and valuable asset. "I had some time," Erestor continued, "so I thought I'd deliver the books personally, as a favour to a guest." It was surprising in itself that Rúmil would be asking about such highbrow literary works. Or perhaps, considering the business with the wine last night, not so surprising. Faelon was beginning to feel that the Lórien envoy might be worthy of further attention.
He took the top six volumes from Erestor's arms, momentarily taken aback with their not insignificant weight, and followed the counsellor towards the guest quarters. It was a glorious day, with a refreshing and good-natured breeze to offset the warm sunlight, yet Faelon was not in the best of moods. Melpomaen had been teasing him about Rúmil, again, until Faelon had practically had to escort his older brother from the room. The worst thing was, he was starting to doubt himself whether or not the other Elda had a point.
Erestor somehow managed to balance his books on one arm in order to free up one hand to knock on Rúmil's door, then entered. The Silvan elf was not alone; he was in the middle of a chess game with his brother, and when Faelon glanced at the board, it was obvious from the numbers of pieces remaining that Haldir was losing.
"I've brought the books you asked for," Erestor said brightly. "Where would you like me to put them?" Rúmil did not look up from the board, but indicated a nearby table, and the counsellor complied. Faelon saw that if he were to add his own to those Erestor had placed on the small table, it would result in a dangerously unstable column, so hesitated.
"Is there somewhere less precarious where I can leave these?" he asked the room in general.
Rúmil's head shot up with a small gasp. "F...Faelon? I wasn't expecting you."
"I was merely assisting Erestor with these books," he returned stiffly.
"Oh, yes, of course." A flush rose in the young elf's cheeks; his distraction caused him to make a bad move in the game.
"Check," Haldir declared lightly, placing one of his ebony pieces with a carefree air.
Rúmil regained his concentration and captured his brother's offending piece, at the same time putting Haldir in check in turn. The elder brother groaned. Erestor casually moved to Haldir's side and whispered something to the Silvan elf. The marchwarden's defeated expression became a calculating smirk. "Perhaps..." he breathed, and made his move.
Rúmil's eyes grew wide as he watched Haldir remove his queen from the board. "But..." His response was desperate and sacrificial, but protected his king.
Erestor made another suggestion to Haldir which, judging by the smile on the marchwarden's face, he liked. The strategy was highly unorthodox and both Rúmil and Faelon frowned. "That was rather risky," the younger elf commented, and took another of his brother's pieces.
"Not so," said Haldir coolly. He made his answer. "Check again."
Rúmil's eyebrows drew together to form a single line above his nose, and Erestor's eyes gleamed with triumph. Sighing obviously, Faelon pulled up a padded stool beside the younger brother. "Two on one is hardly a fair match, is it?" he said. "I suppose I'll lend my aid." He intentionally put a facetious note in his voice, but Rúmil evidently interpreted it as mocking.
He gave a look of disgust which was of a standard with one of Faelon's own. "I don't need your help." But he was clearly discouraged by Erestor's cunning strategy.
"He's a wicked one for quiet moves," Faelon advised, ignoring the younger elf's refusal. He knew from experience, having played the chief advisor often enough, generally when Glorfindel got sick of being beaten.
"Then he'll set me up to lose that rook, won't he?" Rúmil murmured back, so softly it only carried to Faelon's ears, and took his brother's last-but-one pawn
The counsellor gave a brief but scornful smile and turned once more to Haldir. The Silvan elf looked at him aghast. "Surely it would be better to..." Erestor shook his head.
"That's what they expect you to do," he argued reasonably.
"If it suits you. But it's your fault if this doesn't work." The move Haldir made had nothing to do with trying to capture Rúmil's pivotal rook.
Rúmil dealt Faelon a suspicious glance. "You said..."
Faelon gestured for the young elf to come to the window at the other side of the room, affording them a small amount of privacy to talk. "I said he liked quiet moves," he whispered. "You said he'd go for the rook." Rúmil glanced across at the chief advisor. Erestor was completely ignoring the two younger elves, seemingly absorbed in straightening ornaments on a nearby shelf. "Listen to me," Faelon continued in an undertone. "He's as cunning as any double-dealing Dwarf or Man and a good deal more subtle. You won't beat him by trying to anticipate him. I know. I've tried."
"Then what should I do?" Rúmil demanded, trying to sound challenging but actually looking rather helpless.
"Play like you've never played before," he replied. "Use your instincts. Treat it like a real pitched battle. And remember, Elrond wouldn't have chosen him as chief counsellor if he wasn't a brilliant strategist." He glanced back over at the game board, where the other two elves were once more conferring. "Come, I'll show you. I'll play the next couple of moves, and then you can take over."
With immense joint effort, the two managed to stave off Erestor and Haldir's inevitable victory for a good two hours, at which point Haldir came out with some unusual strokes of inspiration of his own, and managed a checkmate with only four of his own pieces remaining. Faelon suddenly realised the time and, thinking of the amount of work he still had to do, excused himself. Haldir pleaded hunger and went to get a bath and something to eat.
Erestor and Rúmil were left alone in the room. "Thank you for the books," the Silvan elf tried weakly.
"It was no problem. In fact, it resulted in an intriguing diversion, don't you think?" The younger elf nodded agreement. "And you managed to get Faelon not only to pay attention to you, but to co-operate with you for some time."
"No," Rúmil corrected. "You did that. You set the whole thing up from the moment you started giving Haldir tips."
"I may have started it, but you persuaded Faelon to ally with you. He isn't naturally as soft-hearted as, say, Glorfindel, you know. He didn't help you out of pure pity. He saw you had some real talent at the game and recognised that, with some guidance, you had the potential either to beat Haldir and me, or make us fight for the victory. I could see he was impressed by your ability - that's why his advice was so vague and general rather than specific."
"I impressed him? That's impossible. He thinks of me in much the same way as he thinks of Men - not very intelligent and something of an embarrassment to be around." Erestor was shaking his head.
"I suspect that wine episode of yours got him thinking, and along with your reading preferences, it seems have convinced him to re-evaluate you."
"Yes - about the wine episode. You looked very knowing at dinner. Did you have something to do with that?"
"I might have."
"You did!" Rúmil laughed incredulously. "You set it up so we got an inferior wine!"
"I might have," the counsellor repeated.
Rúmil rolled his eyes. "I'll find out," he threatened.
Erestor didn't seem especially intimidated. "I hope you enjoy the books."
"I am certain that I shall. But you know you didn't have to bring all of them. I only really wanted the first three."
"If I brought only the first three, would Faelon have offered to help carry them?"
"Oh. I see."
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