We're glad you've stuck around for the third chapter of Dial Tone of the Heart, entitled Your Mom Would Have Done The Same. This is a fanfiction.

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Legolas, darling, Gimli crooned with a ravenous smile. Legolas could not help but note the lustful look in the dwarf's eyes -- it was terribly unbecoming.

Hello there, Legolas said, shuffling his feet a little and thinking with a plaintive sigh of the shampoo with lavender he had been so silly as to leave in Aragorn's shower. The dirty wretch would never appreciate it. What do you want from me, if you please? I would very much like a nice hot bath and some clean undergarments, and I'm appalled that you haven't offered me any refreshments yet.

Gimli gave a chuckle and his massive fleshy body wiggled happily among his furs and silks. Legolas, after waiting a moment and concluding that his dwarf friend wasn't going to say anything, took the liberty of going on:

And what's more, he said haughtily, you doddering, pukey old fool--

a voice interrupted from behind. A man Legolas recognized as one of his assailants stepped up and placed his hands firmly on the elf's shoulders. I think our prisoner, he boomed in Legolas's ear, must be FRIGHTFULLY tired. Might I show him to his cell, your grace?

The dwarf mumbled gruffly for a moment, quite incomprehensibly, and the Gondorian soldier nodded and began to steer the elf out of the room.

Legolas was confused. Hang ON a tick, he cried, you still haven't told me why the hell you've got me here! Aren't I going to find out your ev--

The soldier, Copernicus if Legolas remembered correctly, hushed him with the back of his hand. Easy does it, he whispered. Steady on.

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Are you quite sure you're being rational, my boy? Gandalf wiped his nose delicately and carefully tucked his snuff box back among his robes.

Aragorn grunted, throwing his silk dressing gown into his massive open suitcase. Have you seen my lip gloss anywhere? The flavored one with the green sparkles?

Not a chance, dear boy.

Then I wish you'd do as I asked and get out of Gondor. You're the most aggravating man. And Aragorn gave a little sniff of disgust to emphasize his point.

By the way, in this story, Aragorn is immortal. We plan to never allude to this again, but you'll be glad to know that we are completely ignoring all facts found in the books.

Terribly depressing of you, this banishment from Gondor business, Gandalf was saying as he inspected a glossy photograph of Legolas taken beside the flourishing White Tree of Gondor. The elf seemed to be wearing some sort of tiara. You banished me only two months ago, and it was hell on little Charlie. He's a sensitive lad. This is a disgustingly touristy snapshot you've got here, by the way. Whatever is Legolas wearing on his head?

Aragorn replied.

Gandalf gave him a calculating look. I daresay you're serious this time, old boy. Positively serious.

I AM serious. I am indeed.

Come now, you're never serious. A bloody procrastinator, that's what you are. Took you more than eighty-seven years to get your ass on the throne of Gondor, man!

Aragorn shut his suitcase with a vicious snap. I am going now, he said stiffly, snatching his Best Friends Forever photo frame from the desk and glaring at Gandalf. I don't expect to ever see you again, because when I get home, you will be far away from Gondor.

With that, he tossed his curls and strode brusquely from the room. His suitcase had a bit of trouble getting through the door, and then he was gone.

Gandalf smiled bemusedly to himself and reached into his robes for his snuff. Always knew he was a conceited ass. Well now, Charlie. Looks like Gondor's ours for a few days. Have a pinch of snuff to celebrate, my boy.

Their sneezes echoed happily through the deserted palace.

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Legolas stroked his sparkling locks with a neatly manicured hand. Gimli sure knew how to treat a prisoner; the heavenly array of beauty products in Legolas' cell was extraordinary. The elf poured himself a glass of sparkling mead and lay down on his luxurious velvet bed. He was just about to pick up the super-elf-magical-telephone and dial Aragorn when --

Wake up, ye great elf!

Legolas' eyes fluttered open, and he sighed as he felt the cold stone floor beneath his fair, bruised cheek. He put a hand to his hair and winced as he touched the globby, greasy mess with his delicate fingertips.

The door of his cell was thrown open, and the burly Fergus entered, scowling down at the miserable elf. The other one -- WAS it Copernicus? -- shuffled along behind, a large wooden bowl in his arms.

Time for ye' ta eat some breakf'st, Fergus snarled, lifting Legolas up by his collar and leaning him against the wall. Cornelius ere as brought ye' some thin', and then we're ta take ye down ta the master agin. And not a word about bathin', ye hear? I've not bathed since first I joined up with Master Gimli, an' I don't expect to any time soon.

I'm glad to hear that, Legolas replied weakly, staring petulantly at the slop that Cornelius had handed him. It rather resembled Aragorn's dirty bathwater.

Aragorn. How I miss my Gorny, Legolas thought desperately. Why hasn't he saved me yet?

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The sun was high overhead by the time Aragorn son of Arathorn awoke.

Damn hangover, he muttered, pouring the contents of his kingly canteen over his head. Spluttering and wet, he shook the lukewarm wine out of his eyes and leaned back to slump against his suitcase.

To his dismay, it was missing. With a cry, Aragorn fell backwards into a pile of thistles and began to sob. Once he had been somebody. Once he had been a Ranger. Now he didn't even have his suitcase. How was he to find Legolas when all he had was his silk dressing gown? Oh. And his sword. Not as though that was important.

I am very, very depressed, he informed the thistles that stabbed angrily at his upper lip.

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When Legolas awoke, he was lying with his feet in the slop bucket.

I must have drifted off again, he said to himself for the benefit of the readers. Shakily, he rose and began to disengage himself from the pail of brown mush, but in another moment there was a heavy knock at his chamber door.

What do you WANT? The last word came out in a long and high-pitched whine. Legolas, without waiting for an answer, began to wring out his sopping clothes.

The voice on the other side of the door was tentative. May Icome in a moment, Mr. Legolas?

I guess I can't stop you, Legolas snapped, peeling off the burlap tunic Gimli had given him to wear and hurling it to the other side of the chamber, so I really have no choice.

There was a fumbling of keys, and it sounded like his visitor dropped them a few times, but finally the wooden door swung open with an excited crash.

Legolas wrinkled his nose. he hissed, narrowing his eyes, it's YOU, Copernicus.

the Gondorian soldier corrected automatically, his eyes misting over a little as he reflected bitterly on the numerous times he had been called Copernicus. He began to whistle idly and look curiously about the room.

The fair-haired elf stood with his soaked trousers in one hand, waiting for his assailant to speak. he said when Cornelius didn't, what is it you WANT?

To his supreme surprise and disgust, Cornelius' eyes filled with large tears.

Dreadfully sorry, Mr. Legolas, he murmured, staring with rapt attention at Legolas' crumpled burlap tunic, which lay in a puddle of vomit in the corner of the cell. Do youwould youI mean to saycould I get you something to wear?

Legolas looked down at the trousers in his hand. They were dripping. he said shortly. These trousers are fine.

said Cornelius.

There was a long and extremely strained silence, during which Legolas put on his trousers.

They then shifted their weight a little and looked at their feet.

This was going nowhere.

Oh screw it, Cornelius thought. If I don't give in to my deepest desires now, there may never be another chance. Who knows what Gimli plans to do with this fair elf?

Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that the elf was picking his nose. This was the moment! Striding forward, a vision of red and gold in his Gondorian uniform, Cornelius embraced the elf with incredible force.

Help! Help me! Legolas screamed. Don't you touch me, you dirty Gondorian!

but I love you, Mr. Legolas, the Gondorian mumbled, looking down at the elf in his arms with considerable surprise in his sparkling eyes.

Legolas looked back at him for a few minutes. Alright then, he finally said. Just this once, I suppose.

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Fergus, is there any of that roasted meat left?

The guard looked up from his ale and squinted at his dwarven master. I s'pose so, Master Gimli. Would ye care fer a bit more?

The dwarf shifted among his furs, breathing heavily. he grunted after a moment. Bring me my poetry things.

Receiving a large golden quill and a very pink sparkly sheet of notepaper from Fergus, Gimli leaned back among his cushions. I think I shall write a poem for Legolas, he informed the guard, who had already returned his full attention to his ale. He was not very communicative when you brought him round this morning, was he?

No, Master Gimli, Fergus said from somewhere inside his tankard of ale. On'y talks about bathin', yer highness. Sent Nelius up ta have a li'l chat with im about is behavior round yerself.

That's lovely of you, Ferg, Gimli nibbled anxiously at the edge of his quill. I've got it! He scribbled madly for a few minutes and then observed his poetic ramblings with a happy expression on his bearded face. Ahem. Legolas, my darling./Your hair is like gold./It's really too bad/that you are so cold/to me, your dear Gimli/your beloved friend/who will always adore you/until the very end./Damn you./You put the do not disturb sign on your heart./You ice queen.

Fergus seemed to be slightly unimpressed. In fact, he had passed out under the table.

Gimli snorted. That's what I get for hiring Gondorian deserters. He carefully tucked his poetry things in among his furs and rang for some more roasted meat.

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Three pairs of fresh tracks, two with the distinctive sneaker-prints of Gondorian soldiers. The third tracks looked a bit like Legolas' bootprints when he was drunk, but Aragorn couldn't count on it. Bending down and gathering his purple silk dressing gown tighter around himself, he prodded at the broken soil with a nauseated expression. What if there were earthworms or something?

Well, it certainly looked like he was going in the right direction -- as long as he wasn't second guessing himself. He'd always been a little nervous when it came to tracking. Once, after tracing the steps of what looked like a particularly delightful elf youth, he found himself in a den of orcs. Since then, he'd never been able to track with the same confidence.

But anyway, what was it with these Gondorian prints? Aragorn felt so confused he might have broken into sobs again if he hadn't suddenly remembered his court messenger. Thank goodness he'd been wearing such an unflattering outfit; there was no way Aragorn could have remembered him any other way. And he'd said that two Gondorian soldiers were missing?

Grasping a piece of grass between his teeth, Aragorn chewed with beast-like strength. If these prints were the prints of Legolas, no matter how drunken, it was likely that the Gondorian soldiers had captured him.

Actually, it was rather improbable, he added to himself as he gnashed at the end of his piece of grass. And yet, his eyes could not help straying to the sword he wore upon his belt. It was worth a shot, he decided, running off after the footprints.

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We love you, reviewers. Our great thanks to mrslegolaselfsexee, **Michelle**, churchgurl, Melody, MoroTheWolfGod, Mbwun, churchgurl101, and abby. We would love to accept abby's offer of marriage, and hope you will continue to read and review. The story will be ending next chapter -- stick around for the explosive ending of Dial Tone of the Heart!