Gloin cried out in fright and covered his eyes with his hands. "I'm a married dwarf, human! I know I called you a harlot earlier, but I didn't really think you- What's your plan, seduce the guard?"

Taylor rolled her eyes. "Shut up, dude. I'm not seducing anyone, just turn around if the sight of me is so stressful for you. I'll let you know when you can look."

Taylor shimmied out of her leotard, pulling a green stretchy dress from where it was concealed beneath it. Letting out a sigh of comfort to have taken off the other layer, she put her red leotard back on and informed Gloin that his eyes were safe. She held up the dress for him to inspect.

Gloin was bewildered. "What— what is that strange garment? And from where did it come, I was certain that nothing could be concealed under your appallingly revealing attire."

Taylor grinned. "You underestimate the fashion industry. I told you I'm a singer. Right before I ended up in this forest, I was performing on stage. I play for crowds of thousands, with huge elaborate shows. And during my shows, we always do at least one costume change. You know, to keep things spicy. So this was supposed to be what I change into when the dancers start grinding on the snakes."

Gimli looked no less bewildered, but he didn't seem to know what to ask about first. He sputtered for a few minutes before questioning her rapid fire. They continued this way all night, Taylor trying her best to explain such concepts as "grinding" and "latex," until the footsteps of the elf were heard again, signaling that he was ready with breakfast.

Taylor cleared her throat and stared at the approaching elf's shiny blonde locks, near identical to Legolas's.

"Um... sir?"

The guard trained his eyes on her.

"I would greatly appreciate if you would send my apologies to Prince Legolas. I was in shock and thought that sewing that atrocious quilt would be a funny joke. But I really am a masterful taylor. Could you please give him this tunic I just made?" She handed the guard the green dress, who took it from her with an expression of bafflement.

"Pray, what are these strange appendices on the hem?"

"Oh, you mean the feathers? Those are just, like, fake bird feathers that I, um, crafted to, um, adorn the tunic, in a shade of bright green."

The elf looked impressed. "And what is this odd contraption?" He motioned to the zipper.

"That is an, uh, Demi Sucks, it's a device- that I uh, invented, that helps with taking clothes off. May I?" She demonstrated to him how to use the zipper.

His eyes widened as he watched it zip and unzip. "Simple... but brilliant! This "Demi Sucks" could be perhaps the most brilliant invention I've ever seen. I will take it to the Prince." He turned around and left swiftly, shooting her another intrigued glance as he left.

As soon as it was clear, Taylor laughed. "Wow, I can't believe that worked."

Gloin snorted, and they spent the next few minutes chatting and musing about the wonders of zippers until Prince Legolas turned around the corner, clutching the green dress in hand.

"Agh!" squawked Taylor, and Gloin sunk back in to the shadows of his cell where he couldn't be seen.

"Uh, hi there, your highness!" Taylor said.

Legolas raised his brow. "Well met, young tailor. Tell me, how did you craft this Demi Sucks?"

"Uhm, its a trade secret. So I can't tell you."

"Hm. Even in the depths of my father's dungeons you maintain your dignity and pride as an craftsman." He peered down at her admiringly. "I can respect that."

Taylor flushed. She had just noticed that Legolas's blue eyes shone far brighter than John Mayer's ever had- wait a second! "Snap out of it, Taylor. He's a creepy elf, and he only complimented you because you lied and pretended to invent the zipper."

"Thanks," said Taylor. "Soo, is that guard your cousin or something. Cause he seems to have the same hair as you."

Legolas looked confused for a moment, a corner of his mouth twitching. "No, not at all. By that logic, you could be my cousin. We are both golden- haired."

Taylor grimaced. "No way. Our hair is not alike. I have human hair. Frizzy human hair. Is it frizzy? To be honest, I have no idea what it looks like right now. I don't even remember what my hair looked like before I had my team of stylists blow drying it every day and following me around for touch ups."

Legolas gave her that look he gave her before he had knocked her out, the look that screamed, this girl is crazy, keep away!

Taylor, recognizing that she was on thin ice, tried again. "Legolas, Prince Legolas, sorry if you don't understand me. I assure you that I'm not crazy, but this place is very different from America. What I was explaining, was that in America, because of my, um, sewing fame, as a highly lauded tailor, I paid for a team of women to style my hair. Because of this, I don't know what it would look like now without their styling."

Legolas's expression cleared up. "Ah, you speak of servants. Of course, I too have servants that assist with my hair occasionally, as well as perform other duties."

"They're not my servants! I pay them! They're my, um, employees? Independent contractors working for me temporarily?"

Legolas sniffed. "This America must be very different indeed. Let me give you some cultural advice: in Middle Earth, we refer to the hired help as servants, for that is what they are."

Taylor glared. "Why did you even come down to see me in my miserable cell?"

Legolas cracked a grin. "I have come to give you a second chance. If you truly are the masterful tailor you claim to be, I want you to make tunics for the guard using all the fabric I have here." He mysteriously produced a large pile of fabric and metal scraps along with several drawings and schematics detailing the style and sizings. It looked very scientific to Taylor, who had not gone to school since she was sixteen. "And I would like each tunic to have a Demi Sucks along the back."

"Is that all, your highness?" Taylor's sarcasm was scathing but Legolas didn't seem to catch it.

"That is all I require for now." He began to walk away before turning around again.

"And, tailor? It is frizzy."

"Excuse me?" Taylor questioned, confused.

"Your hair. You said you'd forgotten how it looked."

And then he left, leaving Taylor spluttering in anger, her lap full of fabric and schematics.