“So.. you probably already realized this,” said Lindir carefully as he entered Erestor’s quarters, “but last night, while you were asleep, he managed to win.” He took a step back, just in case something were to be hurled at him.

Erestor looked up, sorting through several ragged sheets with colorful boxes, notes, doodles, and ink blotches upon them. “Yes, I know. Obviously you had a late breakfast.” He was not sitting in his overstuffed chair, but lying across it, legs over one arm, the other arm used to rest his back. “He made an announcement early, over toast and jam, right in front of me.”

For several weeks, Celebrian had been running a bit of a game to raise the spirits of those in the valley. It was something like the hobbit game ‘Bingo’, with the exception that simply calling a number did not grant those with the number on their cards the right to stamp it off. Each card was themed, each group of themes consisting of a series of prompts, and the player could choose the method of their creativity. Glorfindel was a painter, and he had very carefully selected his card, then promptly challenged Erestor to a sort of duel. Erestor’s forte was poetry, and after sorting through the cards available, chose six. Not to be outdone, Glorfindel decided upon two more, not knowing that Erestor had consecutively doubled his cards, then added a few more, then finally selected whatever was remaining once the game began.

Glorfindel set his easel up right in the middle of the Hall of Fire. Whenever he had free time, he would sit and paint, slowly and carefully, each stroke considered. Erestor, on the other hand, haphazardly cobbled together poems as fast as he could, reading them late in the evenings in the Hall of Fire, sometimes with an audience of one, perched on the same bench that Glorfindel was sitting upon to paint. Glorfindel would even pause and put his brush down to clap politely for Erestor, then resume his work.

Lindir looked around at the suite. There were several sheets of paper all over with different poems being written upon them, and a bulging book with a purple and blue floral pattern on it sitting on the table nearest Erestor. “She did say that there would be runners-up,” said Lindir carefully.

“Oh, no, I gave up this morning. What’s the point, really.” Erestor was still shuffling the papery cards, no doubt trying to find something he had forgotten to cross off that might tie him to Glorfindel. “Several people are going to be runners-up. Actually, the way she’s doing it, I thought I saw her with an ‘eighth place’ trophy. I mean, honestly, anyone who keeps playing is going to get…” he trailed off, tilting his head back. Lindir looked upwards, then back to Erestor, who had a distant look as he stared at the ceiling. Lindir honestly hoped this wasn’t some divine intervention, because it seemed the Valar had more important things to worry about besides a bingo game.

“Shall I leave you alone?” asked Lindir after an uncomfortable minute.

“No.” Erestor looked back to the minstrel. “I had a thought.”

“I suspected as much.”

“There are always several ways to skin a cat.”

Lindir frowned. “Poor cat,” he mumbled.

“What if.. what if I play by my own rules.”

“You usually do that, counselor,” reminded Lindir.

“No, no, for this game.” Erestor sat up on the chair normally, grabbing for his blue and purple book. “The point is to get five in a row, right?”

“That was my understanding.”

“What if I do not?”

“Well… as of yet, you have not…” mumbled Lindir.

“No, no, no. What if I play to lose?”

Lindir tried to word his answer carefully. “You are insane.” He could have done better, but, why bother? “A little bit insane,” he amended, recalling that Erestor knew how to use a blade and he did not.

“A lot bit insane,” Erestor corrected, “but if people thought that, they would start taking away the power and responsibility I have acquired.”

“Are.. we still talking about the game?” wondered Lindir as Erestor approached him with the book.

“Thirteen days left, I think. All I have to do is not accept the prompts that would create a line on the cards.” Erestor held up one of the cards. “Like this one. See.. wrinkled.. if that one comes up, I just refuse to take it.”

“And the point is..”

“To get as many squares without ever winning.”

“To be an un-winner?” guessed Lindir.

“Exactly!” Erestor smiled triumphantly.

“Well.. you are still crazy, but good luck with that.”

“This is not about luck anymore,” corrected Erestor. “This is all about strategy! And I excel at games of strategy,” he declared, sitting down with a smirk. “Glorfindel thinks he won, but did he really win? No, not really.. not by my rules.” He chuckled to himself as he went back to his sideways sitting and grabbed for a half-finished poem and his quill, dribbling ink on his arm but not stopping to blot it up.

“Definitely crazy,” muttered Lindir from across the room.