Disclaimer: Still not mine…

A/N: Wow, I got reviews! I'd forgotten the feeling…anyway, here goes. I was originally just going to make this one chapter, then it got long, so I was going to make it two chapters, then everyone actually liked it, so now it's at least three.

Legolas finally picked up the phone, ending the chorus with a painful squawk. "Yo."

"Legolas?"

"Frodo, my man! What's up?"

"I'm on the millionaire show! Quick, I—"

Regis' grin was a bit stretched this time. "Frodo, hold on. I get to do this part, Frodo. When I say 'go', ask him the questionGO!"

Frodo whipped off the question. "Hurry, Legolas! What's the answer?"

"Chill, dude, it's Galadriel! Don't you know anything? I'll have to send you Unfinished Tales and The Silmarilion for your next birthday—"

The line went dead. Regis grinned. It was starting to get a little frightening. "Time's up, Frodo! Do you think you'll take his advice, Frodo?"

"Sure. Why the hell not?"

Regis laughed. It was decidedly scary. "Frodo, it that your final answer, Frodo?"

"Yes."

"Hooray!"

Aragorn shook his head. "Legolas needs to learn how to have more fun," he complained.

"Well, with all those fangirls thirsting for blood…" Arwen pointed out.

The King of Gondor smiled lewdly. "It's not his blood they're thirsting for," he observed.

Arwen slapped his shoulder and giggled. "You have a foul mind!"

Aragorn shrugged. "Maybe Legolas should get married. That would take care of most of the fangirls, and it might improve his temper, too."

"Does his temper need improving?" she wondered.

"You should've seen him when we were filming," Aragorn said fearfully. "And during the events themselves—oooh, there's a lot the general public doesn't know about him, and I don't just mean the surfer-talk."

"I though that was Celeborn."

"Legolas picked it up partly from the Lórien elves and partly from the surfers in L.A., especially a group of people with weird names, which is where the Lórien elves picked it up."

Arwen nodded. "I see. What kind of names did those people have?"

"Let's see. There was Dirk and Duck and Weetzie and My Secret Agent Lover Man—"

"What?"

"No, that was really his name! And there was Witch Baby and Cherokee and Angel Juan and Raphael and Valentine and Ping."

"Wow. Oh, look at poor Frodo's question this time!"

"Legolas is the prince of a) Mirkwood, b) Greenwood, c) Eryn Lasgalen, or d) all of the above. Or e) Richard Nixon."

Frodo hesitated. "Nixon? Ummm...I hope that was a joke. Anyway, this must've been in the appendices, because Legolas once complained to that they never mentioned him in Unfinished Tales. Wait, his dad is Thranduil, who features in The Hobbit as the King of Mirkwood! That must be it!"

"Frodo, are you sure, Frodo?" Regis' habit of saying Frodo's name so often was getting remarkably annoying.

"Um…no. Can I call Legolas again?"

"Sorry, Frodo, but no, Frodo. You can call someone else…"

"No, I think it's—wait."

Arwen was bouncing up and down. "It's d! Pick d, you stupid hobbit!"

"Arwen's giving me another psychic message."

The elf-princess/queen was too worked up to care about Frodo's sudden sensitivity to the psychic telephone networks of the Fair Folk. "It's d! Mirkwood was called Greenwood, and after the defeat of Sauron, Thranduil and Celeborn renamed it Eryn Lasgalen!"

"She's thinking d," Frodo informed Regis. "I agree. And yeah, that's my final answer."

"Frodo, it that your final answer, Frodo?"

"I just said that."

"Well, Frodo, you've won, Frodo!"

Frodo's expression was so comically confused that Aragorn nearly died laughing. "Is that it?" the hobbit asked.

Regis grinned. The rabid criminally insane rabbits who were high on illegal substances ran away from him. "No, just one more."

"Bring it on," Frodo said in his most Aragorn-like fashion.

"What is the race of the semi-famous fantasy character who shares my name? Is it a) halfling, b) elf, c) Richard Nixon, or d) dwarf?"

There was a pause, both at the millionaire-show-place and in the palace of Gondor. "What?" Aragorn said finally.

"I have no idea what he's talking about," Arwen announced. "And what is it with that man and Richard Nixon? The guy was a crook."

Meanwhile, in Ithilien, Legolas and a dear friend of his who had crossed worlds, authors, and series to visit him had turned on the TV to watch Frodo. Legolas' friend began to laugh himself sick when he saw the question. Legolas gave him an odd look. Maybe having that awful name has finally cracked him, he thought. The elf prince glanced out the window past the armed guards and barbed wire fence. Then again, it could be those evil fangirls after both of us… "Drizzt, dude, what's wrong?"

Drizzt, the just-as-hot-as-Legolas-but-mostly-unappreciated-due-to-lack-of-film-and-also-to-really-really-really-ridiculously-hideous-cover-art good dark elf (and champion hotelfguy), wiped his lovely streaming violet eyes and gasped for breath. "Regis is my sidekick!" he explained. "One of them, anyway, after the token girl and the token dwarf and that obnoxious muscle-bound idiot Wulfgar and my pretty kitty Guenhwyvar…"

Guenhwyvar, a six-hundred-pound magical black panther, purred and placed her head on Drizzt's shoulder. He scratched her behind the ears and continued. "Anyway, Regis is my halfling pal. I hope Frodo can call you again this time."

"Maybe he'll call you. He seemed rather fond of you when I had that fantasy-heroes party."

Drizzt smiled at the memory. Now that had been fun, and delightfully amusing. Sabriel dancing with Elaith, Alanna boogieing with Vanyel, Alberich swinging with Cathlin, Arilyn and Kerowyn swapping war stories, Eugenides and Attolia making out in the corner, Numair, Merlin, Gandalf, Lirael, Darkwind, and Raistlin stringing Harry Potter and Sparrowhawk/Gen for "not being real wizards!", Matthias falling into the punch bowl, Daine chatting up Guenhwyvar before having a very long conversation about the delights of living among wolves with Firekeeper, Kazul and Varien/Akhor complaining about the difficulties of being King of the Dragons, Lanen and Onua talking horses, Sameth and Samwise complaining about their names and how one author had copied the other, Gawain and Sparhawk discussing knighthood, Selenay, Thayet, Cimorene, Ehlana, and Guinevere debating queenship, Maurynna Kyrissaean and Morgan le Fey whining to each other about how stupid most people were about different-colored eyes, Bantam, Elspeth, George Cooper, Savil, Hawk & Fisher, and every dwarf on the premises getting drunk (or at least, Bantam tried to get drunk, but since he physically couldn't, he just drank a lot), Stefen, Talia, and Danilo singing between the drunkards' songs, while Drizzt himself discussed methods of escaping fangirls with the other hotelfguys: Legolas, Foxfire, Haldir (book not movie), Kelsenellenelvial (Kelsey), Elladan, Elrohir...

It had been fun.

"I think I want to call my good pal Drizzt Do'Urden. No one knows who he is since he's not in Lord of the Rings, but he reads all these great books and—"

"Okee-day." Regis pressed the button and Drizzt's cell phone rang.

The drow answered quickly. "It's a, Frodo! He's my sidekick! Pick a!"

"Hey!" Regis protested. "That's not how it's supposed to work."

"OK, Drizzt! Thanks!"

The line went dead on both sides. Frodo smiled at Regis and said. "My final answer is a."

"Frodo, is that your final answer, Frodo?"

"Yes!"

"Good."

Before anyone could cheer or boo, Regis was on to the next question.