Okay, guys. It's been way too long. Waaayyyyyy too long. I'm really, really sorry! I just kept putting it off (I had plenty of time over the summer) until I became too busy to write once the semester started. You have my deepest apologies!

But I have to say that this will, unfortunately, be the last update for another long while. I'll write when I can, but that might not be very often, and next year looks like it's going to be extremely busy. Hopefully I will have time next summer. :) I'm really sorry I can't update frequently or regularly-I know how awesome it is when authors do that!

With that, I give you the next episode in this unexpected and really strange adventure. I hope you enjoy it! :)

(Oh, by the way, I just want to say: this is NOT going to be a Legomance. Sarah and Legolas will become friends, but there will be NO shipping. With anyone. Just an FYI because I know that so far it seems to be leaning in the Legomance direction. That's the story's doing, not mine.)

It was chaos.

Okay, maybe not as bad as it could have been. But it was still a mild fiasco.

Sarah had tried her best to explain the various cooking apparatuses beforehand, but apparently her best wasn't good enough. Sam had thought the flat electric stovetop was ingenious, and the temperature dials a marvel of convenience, but he still preferred a nice wood stove or even an open fire; with those, at least, he knew exactly how hot and how long to cook things. The oven, too, was confusing, and set far too high in the wall for a hobbit to reach without standing on a stool—which would probably not be a good idea whilst handling hot dishes full of food. This was the first sign that the cooking of supper would be involving more than just the hobbits.

Another was the fact that three quarters of everything needed was stored in cabinets above the hobbits' reach. Even on stepstools, some things were still too high. Sarah didn't relish the thought of having to take a hobbit to the emergency room because a large glass salad bowl fell on his head. Sending in a tall person to help wouldn't do because they wouldn't know what was needed, much less where it was stored. So as much as she wanted to go collapse on the couch with a coffee and a Netflix marathon of House M.D., she was obliged to stay in the kitchen and help Sam.

Everything started out well enough—about as well as could be expected, given the circumstances. The kitchen was crowded with stools and chairs and something of a makeshift assembly line had been set up. Pippin stood on a chair at the sink, washing vegetables and passing them to Merry, who was chopping them up. Half the chopped vegetables then went to Sam, draped in Sarah's mother's old apron and wielding a stirring spoon in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other, manning the various pots and pans on the stove. The other half went to Frodo at the little breakfast table, who assembled them in a large bowl to make a salad.

Then they ran into their first speedbump. Frodo's salad was already overflowing, and he hadn't even put all the components in yet. And though they had thought the bowl would be large enough to hold enough salad for the whole company, the full bowl probably only contained three or four servings (given the amount the Fellowship had eaten of everything else during their stay).

"Perhaps we ought to serve it in individual bowls," suggested Merry over his shoulder, but Sarah shook her head. "That would mean even more dirty dishes than we're already going to have," she countered. "And besides, everybody might not want all their salad, or even want salad at all." Here she mainly had Gimli and herself in mind, though it was possible some of the others might decline.

"Is this the largest bowl you have, then?" asked Frodo. Sarah thought for a minute. "Well…no, actually. I think there's still a giant one up in the cabinets somewhere. And I think it's actually supposed to be for salads, so I guess it should do. Let me look."

Pippin vacated his chair momentarily so Sarah could drag it over to another stretch of cabinets. She stood on it and began rummaging. "Found it," she grunted after a minute, and stretched up on her toes. Unfortunately for short people like Sarah, the cabinets were both high and deep. And the bowl was, of course, in the very back. Her fingertips managed to touch the edge of the bowl, but it was too heavy for her inadequate grip, and she ended up pushing it farther back than it was to begin with. She growled in frustration. Normally in such a situation, she'd simply grab a long utensil like a meat fork and drag the dish out; but in this case, the bowl being huge and of glass and behind a bunch of other stuff, Sarah decided not to risk it. She was going to have to bring in help.

She climbed down from the chair, returning it to Pippin, and trudged over to the living room. Sticking her head through the doorway, she was just in time to hear a roar of laughter; it seemed that Gimli had been recounting some amusing tale (probably bawdy, judging by everyone's look of embarrassment when they caught sight of Sarah). Her eyes scanned the room for the tallest person and quickly fell on Legolas. He had been leaning casually up against the wall with his arms crossed, but had stood up straight along with everyone else when Sarah had entered the room. Though she knew this was a mandatory gentlemanly action for them, it disconcerted her.

"Um," she said, conscious of the five pairs of eyes on her. It was like, well, interrupting a group of men in the middle of a racy story. "Sorry to interrupt, guys, but I need to borrow Legolas for a sec." The Elf raised an eyebrow, but he nodded to the other men and followed Sarah out of the room.

"I, uh, I need you to reach something for me," Sarah explained, shifting her feet. She felt suddenly and inexplicably embarrassed at asking an Elf—the prince of Mirkwood no less—to retrieve something from a high cabinet. Then she remembered how surly and awkward he'd looked when she had taken him to Panera in his new clothes, and her embarrassment lessened considerably. "You're the tallest one here, so you shouldn't have any trouble." For the barest moment Legolas wore a look of offended incredulity, but he quickly made his face impassive once more and inclined his head to the woman.

Sarah led the Elf to the kitchen cabinet and pointed out the dish they needed. She watched as Legolas raised his arm and plucked the bowl from the cabinet with disgusting ease. He didn't even have to stretch to reach it. Legolas handed the heavy glass bowl to Sarah with a small bow and a "milady." She shot him a hard glance, and though his face displayed no sign of sarcasm, she got the strong feeling that he was smirking at her inside. She nodded her thanks and set the bowl in front of Frodo, then checked Sam's progress at the stove. When she turned back around, Legolas was still there.

"Are there any further objects you need me to retrieve for you, milady?" There was definitely the trace of a smirk this time. Sarah narrowed her eyes at him. "No, O great Elven-prince of Snarkwood, that's all I need," she drawled with a roll of her eyes. "Thank you so much for your benevolent help. We peasants greatly appreciate it." She gave an exaggerated bow. Legolas looked baffled but gave a half-grin, amused, and returned to the living room.

When she turned around again she found the hobbits staring at her, clearly amused but highly confused. "What?" she demanded. "He was giving me snark, so I gave some back!" The confusion on their faces deepened. "Snark?" repeated Pippin. "Sarcasm. Attitude," explained Sarah. Pippin nodded. "Ah," he said. "That makes sense. I thought perhaps you meant wooing."

It took Sarah a minute to realize what he meant. Her face turned beet red and she spluttered a little. "You thought we were flirting?!" she managed to choke out.

All the hobbits nodded.

Sarah stared at them, at a loss for words, and finally just snorted loudly and stomped over to the silverware drawer. The hobbits looked at each other and shrugged as she muttered to herself and loudly pulled out silverware, the utensils clattering on the counter.

A short while later, Gimli stuck his head in the doorway and asked if they were having any trouble with supper, since really they ought to be nearly done by now. "No, Gimli, we're doing just fine," growled Sarah through gritted teeth. Of course, at that very moment Sam dropped a bit of butter on the stove, and a completely unreasonable amount of smoke went curling up from the burner.

Seconds after, several things happened at once. The smoke alarm, already on a hair trigger, shrieked out its piercing beep in protest of the presence of so much smoke. The hobbits hit the ground with their hands clamped over their ears, terrified, while Gimli roared and spun in circles looking for the enemy. The men in the living room came rushing into the kitchen, shouting alarmed questions, adding to the clamor, and Legolas let out some curses choice enough to cause Gandalf and Aragorn to stare at him in surprise even amid the pandemonium. Sarah was stumbling over hobbits to the smoke alarm with her hands over her ears when a flicker caught her eye, and she looked at the stove in horror to see that little tongues of flame were leaping up from the puddle of butter. Sam noticed it at the same time and, scrambling up onto his chair, slammed a skillet lid over the puddle while Sarah wrenched the burner knob around to off. Two seconds later, Sarah turned around just in time to see Gimli deliver a death blow to the smoke alarm with his tallest axe, the haft of which was fortunately made of wood.

For a moment everyone just stood there looking rattled and staring at one another—except Gimli, who uttered a battle cry of triumph and spat at the smoke alarm, which was so high up that the glob of Dwarf spit landed on the wall below it and began to ooze downward. The hobbits cautiously uncovered their ears, but Legolas was still clutching his head with such force that his fingers were white, his eyes scrunched shut.

Sarah broke the silence. "Um…Legolas? You can let go of your ears now." The Elf opened his eyes, let his hands fall to his sides, and glowered at her. He turned and strode back into the living room while the others converged on Sarah.

"What in the name of Elbereth was that evil noise?!"

"What was that?"

"Why was it so loud?"

"I thought for a moment that we were under an attack of some sort!"

"My ears are ringing yet!"

"Worry not, my lady, I have slain the maker of that fearful sound! But you ought to have told us that such a thing resided in your house."

"Indeed. What was—"

"Okay! Enough!" shouted Sarah in frustration. "It was just a smoke alarm!" They stared at her, perplexed. "It goes off when it senses smoke," she explained, rubbing her temples. "It's a safety mechanism. Not an enemy. Not a monster. The volume is so it'll wake you up if you're asleep. It was just doing its job." There was a collective ohhh from the Fellowship. With that cleared up, Sarah and the hobbits got to work cleaning up the kitchen and salvaging supper. Surprisingly, Boromir pitched in, as well as Gimli, who sensed that perhaps he should not have cloven the device in two and wanted to appease Sarah. Aragorn and Gandalf went to check on Legolas.

Legolas was stretched out on the couch, massaging his throbbing temples with a pained expression. The other two sat down too, commiserating with him in silence, until Sarah came in wiping her hands on a towel. She looked startled to see the highborn Elf looking so…well, human. She hesitated in the doorway, wondering if she should just leave, but quickly took charge of the situation.

It was a fight, but she won. Fifteen minutes later, the Elf was laid up in the guest bedroom with a full dose of extra-strength aspirin—approved by both Gandalf and Aragorn after Sarah Googled the ingredients—a cold washcloth draped over his forehead, and the cat curled up purring on his chest. These were tried-and-true headache cures (well, except for the cat, but she had jumped up before Sarah could stop her and hooked her claws in Legolas's shirt if anyone tried to remove her). Legolas looked every bit the emo goth with that scowl on his face, but too bad. He would thank her for it later.

The food, everyone later agreed, actually turned out pretty well; but it was a unanimous decision to stick to fast food from then on.