Beyond Canon
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“What do you have there?” demanded Salgant.

Erestor stopped abruptly, and examined the sealed envelope in his hands. “My entries for the summer games; what else?” He walked on, with Salgant now on his heels. “They are due in today.”

“Yes, I know they are,” answered the rotund elf with mild exasperation. “But you,” he said, snatching the envelope away, “are not allowed to participate.”

Placing his hands on his hips and staring down at Salgant for a moment, Erestor then grabbed the envelope back, smoothing out a crease. “And why not?”

“You know as well as anyone that those with a criminal background are not allowed to compete.” Salgant sniffed with disdain. “Your record from Doriath is against you, sergeant.”

“It was, yes, that is true,” nodded Erestor. “However,” he said, continuing on his way through the palace with Salgant furiously trying to keep pace, “things have changed. You see, I have learned that that Thingol declared me dead.”

“So?” panted Salgant as they went up two flights of stairs.

“So,” said Erestor, “according to the rules of Doriath, my record has been wiped clean – in anticipation of my ‘rebirth’ of course. Oh, look- here I am!” Erestor stopped at the end of the short line of hopeful artists and athletes with plans to compete in the games that were half a year away. “Did you remember to turn your entries in?”

“My entry has been given to them, thank you,” wheezed Salgant. “What of King Turgon? Surely he has not pardoned you for-“

“Ah ah ah.” Erestor effectively silenced Salgant (and easily, for the other elf was panting for air as it was). “All of the ‘devious’ things I was charged with were never put on record – all closed councils, all absolutely, how shall I put it – nonexistent.”

“Next!” called the ellon standing at the counter. Erestor stepped forward and handed his envelope to him. Salgant tried to get a peek at the papers as they were removed and checked over for verification. “Everything is in order. You will receive further instruction in four months. Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Erestor bowed to the Master of the Games and then turned to leave. “Oh! I thought you had gone,” he said to Salgant as he passed him by.

“So which events are you participating in?” questioned Salgant, blocking Erestor’s path.

Looking for a way around, Erestor crossed his arms over his chest. “I need tell that to no one.”

“I will find out the day of the competition,” Salgant reminded him.

“And so shall everyone else. Good day!” Erestor managed to pass around Salgant, grinning mischievously as he walked briskly away.

Salgant continued to brood for a few minutes until he saw Rog approaching with his entries. “Here now, I see the boxing champion plans to retain his title,” Salgant said in greeting.

Taking his envelope directly to the counter, for the line had dissolved now, Rog shook his head. “No, no boxing this year for me. The last batch of recruits has me tired.”

“Somehow, I am not surprised,” smirked Salgant.

Rog waited as his papers were checked over, and when Salgant approached, he stepped aside so that his entries were visible. “A weight lift, no surprise in that. Swordcrafting. They both make sense.”

“I have wanted to compete against Enerdhil in that event for some time. I finally decided, there is no reason I need to always win the boxing event. There is less thrill if you know from the onset that you will win the event.” Nodding to the game master when he was told everything was well with his applications, Rog strolled down the hallway with Salgant. “Which events have you chosen?”

“Just the historical minstrel competition,” Salgant said. “The same as every year.”

“You should consider boxing again. Especially now that I am no longer competing – that is why you stopped, is it not?” pressed Rog.

Stopping at a window to look outside at the snow-covered ground, Salgant admitted, “I knew you would always best me. I do not appreciate being made a fool of. But six months is little time for me to train again,” he said as they began to make their way down the hall.

“I could have you ready for competition in four. You do not believe me,” said Rog as Salgant began to laugh. “Let me give it a try. You can always pull out of the event up to two weeks prior to the games if you decide you are not ready.”

“Four months.” Salgant looked down at his belly and shook his head. “It would take a miracle.”

“I did not say I would have you in perfect condition; you can still be overweight and be able to fight without falling flat on your ass,” remarked Rog. “Your choice. I just thought you might want the chance to hit him back.” Rog began walking down the hallway again.

Salgant furrowed his brow, and then widened his eyes. “So that is what he is competing in! Tell me, which other event is your newest sergeant signed up for?”

“That I do not know – I only sign off on the sporting events for my soldiers,” said Rog. He slowed his step as Salgant hurried to catch up. “But he is planning to box this year.”

“And? What chance does he have?” prodded Salgant.

Rog tilted his head from one side to the other. “He is strong, but this is newfound strength. He does not quite know what to do with it yet. Whereas you as a trained warrior, with skill and knowledge of the sport. It should be obvious who will win. You may not even end up paired against him, of course,” added Rog.

Motioning that they should enter a little alcove, Salgant lowered his voice. “Who will be making out the rotations for the boxing matches.”

“I will,” said Rog very softly, for such discussion was illegal prior to the events.

“Good. Make sure we pair against one another. Not the first round- I need to see how he fights before I can compete against him. Be sure to give us easy opponents to keep us in, though.” Smiling to himself, he said, “Earlier he told me that Doriath mistook him for being dead. When I get done with him, he will wish he was.”
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