The Art of Deception

OMG U GUYS!!!!!!!!! I AM SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO SOOOOOOOOOOOO SORRY THAT THIS CHAPTER TOOK SO LONG!!!!!!!! BUT I WAS SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO BUSY WITH SCHOOL AND SCHOOL ACTIVITES AND STUFF THAT I HAD ABSOLUTELY NO TIME TO UPDATE!!!! But I have not given up on this story even though I have a kinda writers block right now. I'm very flattered that y'all think I write well for someone my age… very very flattered. I luv u guys!!! U reviewers rock!!!

Disclaimer: don't own LOTR… too tired….

Well, I'm majorly sleepy right now and my parents are gonna get mad at me for being up so late so I gotta go… enjoy! (even though it's not really a chapter)

Chess is the Game, Life is the Stage

The room was dim, with only a few candles lighting the area above a table. A concealed figure sat on a luxuriously soft chair in front of the table. His face was completely shadowed by the hooded robe he wore, a robe that was black in color. He seemed a normal person, perhaps a middle-aged man, well-built and sturdy. But every once in a while, the candles would flare, illuminating eyes as black as the night. Those were eyes devoid of any emotion, containing both nothing and everything. The man standing next to him, Plaskos, would shiver whenever he caught a glimpse of those eyes, the only sign of who the hooded man truly was.

Plaskos always made sure never to gaze deeply into those eyes. He knew that if he did, he would forever be lost in them, forever swimming in the black depths of everything and nothing, that which no mortal is ever destined to see. The black-robed man—was he a man? Plaskos did not know though he had been serving this man his whole life—sat silently, gazing at the game spread out in front of him. No, he was not playing a game with Plaskos. The game he played was deadly. One wrong move meant death, or even worse for him, failure, failure to reach the goal he had been working for all of his dark, outlawed life.

The game he was gazing steadily at with those eternal, black eyes was called chess. It was from a planet called Earth, inhabited by humans only. Plaskos thought that this was rather strange. Most of the other planets he had visited or heard of with his master, the robed man, contained many different races—elves, dwarves, dragons, faerie folk, and many other species that he could not remember the names of. This planet had only humans. Had everyone else died out? Or was this the way it was supposed to be? But he didn't have time to ponder these questions, for at that moment, the robed man spoke.

He spoke softly but his voice was chill and deadly, like an assassin's blade pressed against one's throat. It gave Plaskos the shivers. "Tell me, Plaskos. What was this game called again?"

"Chess, my Lord." Plaskos answered nervously. His master's voice had always had the effect of making him feel like a cornered rabbit.

"Ah… yes. Chess. And what planet is it from?"

"Earth, my Lord. The planet where only humans live." Plaskos was even more nervous now. He knew that his lord knew the answer to all of these questions. So why was he asking them? To test him? His lord was not one to speak idly or for enjoyment.

The robed man watched his servant squirm with amusement. Plaskos's mind could not possibly comprehend what he, his master, was. And all for the better. For if he truly knew, he might've gone insane. "Earth…" the name trailed off into a whisper as the robed figure tested it, letting it roll off his tongue. But no matter. The planet was not important. The game was. He was silent for a while, thinking.

"My Lord?" Plaskos questioned, a tremor in his voice.

The cloaked figure snapped out of his thoughts, feeling faintly annoyed. But the feeling was quickly suppressed. One could not expect any better from a mortal, or even an immortal at that. "Yes, yes… where was I? Right, chess. It's a very amusing game, really. I'm surprised humans could've developed something like this." There was scorn in his voice, as there always was when he talked about any race. It seemed that he felt that he was above all of them. The chess board before him was set up in the usual chess manner, kings, queens, bishops, knights, etc. covering both sides of the board.

"Now, look closely, Plaskos." the Lord bid. The servant leaned closer to the table to see the board more clearly. "We start out with both sides intact. Two players, maneuvering their own little armies. Now, let us say that I am the king of the black pieces. Both players move their pieces, placing them strategically to trap the other player, to trap his king."

The pieces moved magically by themselves as he spoke. Plaskos watched in fascination as they hovered over the board, moving to different squares of the black and white board before landing again. The cloaked man saw this fascination, and a small, scornful smile played around his lips. How easily mortals were amazed! He spoke again, "But here, I shall bend the rules of chess a bit. Let us say that the opponent's forces are wiped out, leaving only one left." With a wave of his hand, the pieces on the other side of the board suddenly shattered into fragments. Plaskos, with a small yelp, leapt backwards to avoid getting hit by the shards of wood. "Now, Plaskos," the robed man said, amusement evident in his voice. "You musn't be so jumpy. Come here." He beckoned. Unwillingly, Plaskos bent forward again.

One piece remained on the board, a small, white pawn. "Ah…yes." the Lord murmured. "The pawn is left. The pawn…" he trailed off, lost in thoughts.

"My Lord?" Plaskos inquired.

Once more, the Lord broke out of his thoughts. "Yes…the pawn. Now that we have destroyed all of its kin and court, it comes to us to seek revenge." Another wave of the hand caused the small, wooden figure to drag itself forward a few spaces, slowly, almost as if in pain. "But now it reaches the middle of the board. It settles down for a while, waiting, trying to shut the flow of memories of its friends and family. It befriends others but finds itself becoming too close to them. It seeks escape." Now the pawn hovered over the board, in the air, as if in indecision. "But where to escape to?" the Lord continued. "There is nowhere left to go. It uses desperate measures." He gestured again. A tiny whirl of rainbow lights appeared in front of the pawn. "It builds a portal through time and space. Unknown to it, that portal is the way across the river, across the river into the hands of the enemy king. It knows the dire consequences of such an action, but desperation clouds out all else. Desperation… and grief. But wait. The portal disappears. The pawn has made a mistake in the casting of the spell. Someone else enters."

"Would that someone else be important, my Lord?" Plaskos questioned.

"No, no," the hooded figure said, sounding a bit annoyed at the interruption. "The person is a mortal. She might be important to others but not to me. No, I have only one adversary. The pawn will now proceed in a search for its precious portal, all the while berating itself for making such a mistake. The game stands still. We will wait to see what happens."

The Lord was silent. Plaskos stood next to him, also quiet. One of the candles sputtered, wavering as if greedily ate up the last few drops of wick left. One by one, the candles died, until they were plunged into darkness. Still, servant and master were both silent, the master lost in his own thoughts and plans, the servant nervously waiting.

Time flowed on.