You've stuck around with us, and now you're about to see it pay off in the final episode of Dial Tone of the Heart, entitled At Last Telephones Have Ears.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Legolas gazed at the tousled head below him and flicked the end of his cigarette decidedly onto it.

murmured Cornelius sleepily; he turned over and ash spilled into his eyes, but he didn't seem to notice.

The elf prince made a displeased noise and kneed Cornelius hard in the ribs.

murmured Cornelius sleepily.

Tossing the butt of his cigarette into Cornelius' hair, Legolas rose and stretched with incredible grace. As he lifted his arm, however, his hand brushed his hair and he froze, eyes wide.

he hissed at the sleeping assailant. Wake up.

murmured Cornelius sleepily.

the elf snapped. I need to wash my hair. Right. Now.

He was about to direct a sharp and painful kick at Cornelius' horizontal figure when his elven ears caught the distinctly jarring sound of keys in the lock.

Ye in there, ye great elf? It was Fergus. Master's come up ta see ye. Are ye decent?

Legolas felt his throat going strangely dry; he looked over at Cornelius, who was sitting up on his Gondorian cloak with a panicked expression in his sparkling eyes.

Legolas called back. I...no. No, I'm not decent at all. Would you mind coming back once I've had a bubble bath?
V'ry funny, bellowed Fergus, kicking the door in.

By the Valar! screamed Cornelius, staring at his leg, which had just been severed from his soldierly form by the door.

Fergus cried, falling to the floor beside his nude companion, who was rapidly losing blood. Nelius! Yer...yer bleedin',

I know I'm bleeding, Cornelius winced, trying to wrap himself in his Gondorian cloak, which was sopping wet with dark blood. Would you mind getting your knee off the stump? he gasped out.

And then he was dead.

Nelius! Nooooooooooooooo! the burly soldier buried his face in Cornelius' ashy locks. Ow kin it be? When I...when I ne'er had the chance ta tell ye ow much I care? Pulling his dagger from his belt, Fergus kissed Cornelius gently upon the nose. Soon, I will be wi' ye forever, my With that, he stabbed himself and was dead as well.

Gimli surveyed the scene from the door as Legolas tried to pull his tunic over his head.

Never should have hired Gondorians, the dwarf grunted after a moment. Too high strung, I always say.

~*~*~*~*~*~

I wish I were dead, Aragorn muttered viciously under his breath as he waded through a stinking swamp, his silken robe damp with greenish scum.

Up above, a vulture was circling. It had been circling for a few hours now, squawking madly at the poor king as he trudged along.

Go screw yourself! he yelled up at the decrepit bird.

He continued onward.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The voice on the end of the super-elf-magical-telephone was thin and weak, strained with tears of pain and sorrow. How can we help you at the Shire Center for Hobbit Amputees?

Frodo, my lad! Is that you? Gandalf boomed into the phone, helping himself to some leftover toes from the Gondorian kitchen fridge.

Frodo's voice was quavering. What do you want from us? Leave us alone! He was becoming hysterical.

What's the matter, dear boy? Gandalf smiled, popping a toe into his mouth.

What's the matter? The matter? You've put me in a wheelchair! Crippled me for life! You've torn my life from me along with my toes! No more do I run through the lush fields of the Shire! No! Now I must tend the broken, toeless feet of other hobbits like me -- hobbits whose lives have been ruined by you!

Gandalf chewed thoughtfully. I don't suppose you've any interest in coming to my party, then?

~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been two hours since the hormonal Gondorian soldiers had taken their final gasping breaths, and Legolas stood now before Gimli son of Gloin in his capacious ping-pong room. Like this story's legions of fans, the elf prince was hoping to have some things explained to him.

boomed Gimli, wiggling excitedly as he struck his ball with vigor. You want to know why I brought you here, eh?

Legolas ducked and straightened, beginning to lose his patience.

Gimli launched another ball at his visitor's head before he continued. Hoping that this abysmal plot will pick itself up and the story will get a little bit more interesting, are you?

Legolas, ducking again, admitted that this was the case.

And don't forget about this, he said after straightening up, gesturing to his mop of soiled hair so that his shackles jingled merrily. My once silky, flaxen locks now rest in many a jagged nest atop my head.

The dwarf chuckled heartily. he cried. Then, after a moment, Do you really want to know why you're here?

Legolas, straightening up after the last ping-pong attack, said rather haughtily that he didn't think that the question was worth dignifying with an answer.

You always thought you were special, didn't you? Gimli's eyes had narrowed dangerously, and he aimed his ping-pong balls with considerable force. Always smirking about you and your precious Gorny, wasn't that it?

Legolas, pulling the ping-pong ball out of his ear, shrugged.

Well, I brought you here to put a stop to that forever! the dwarf shrieked, grabbing a zipper in his side and stepping out of the large fleshy skin to reveal...

Legolas squeaked, aghast.

Step away from my man! Aragorn roared, leaping through the door and drawing his sword. Step away right now!

Without actually waiting for an answer, he smote Haldir down with one powerful blow. Breathing heavily, the king stared at the headless elf, lying among the folds of the Gimli suit. Then, wiping his dirty hair from his eyes, he approached Legolas with a rascally grin.

How are you, darling?

But Legolas shrank against the wall in terror. What is that filthy thing you're wearing?

It's no filthier than your hair! Aragorn spat back, feeling slightly wounded. He had expected Legolas to run right into his kingly arms and demand to be ravished immediately. Why don't you walk home to Gondor by yourself, if you've got such a problem with what I'm wearing?

Legolas sneered, swerving his head about saucily. Unfortunately, his hair wouldn't quite flip the way he wanted it to. I need a bath, Gorny, he cried suddenly, bursting into tears.

Aragorn strode forward and clasped the elf to his bosom. Do not worry, my love, he crooned. You will have all the baths you can handle back in Gondor.

Oh, thank you, Gorny son of Thorny! Oh thank you so!

~*~*~*~*~*~

I'm sure you'll be happy here, Charlie my lad, Gandalf grinned, patting the youth on the shoulder with a paternal air. Elrond, I'll be over to see him again soon.

And with that, the grey and ragged wizard strode off, leaving his sobbing son clinging to the robes of Elrond Half-Elven.

There, there, Elrond murmured, You'll meet a lot of new friends here at the Lord Elrond Center For Snuff Addiction.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Legolas smiled in adoration at the rows of beauty products adorning the walls of his pink and gold tiled bathroom. I'm glad we got back to Gondor safely, he reflected gratefully as he powered his nose with joy. Prancing excitedly towards the tub, he eagerly twisted the hot water tap and watched the refreshing liquid bubble and steam. A small sob caught in his throat at the sheer beauty of it all.

With a delicate bound, he leapt into the boiling bath. One cry of anguish, and then the elf expired, his innards roasted to perfection. Silently, his clumpy hair waved gracefully around his peaceful face. Peaceful forever more.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Charlie lay listlessly in a mud puddle, his eyes glazed over with the pain of withdrawal. On the other side of the courtyard, Lord Elrond was leading the rest of Charlie's Addiction Center Friends in a cheerfully charming rendition of If You're Happy And You Know It, You Don't Need Snuff.

Charlie groaned and rolled over. As he flopped desolately onto his other side, a swinging unlatched gate caught his eye. His mind filled with visions of Gandalf's silver snuffbox.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Hair like...like the most ribbony silk of the stars...

Aragorn bit his lip thoughtfully and looked up towards the blue skies of Gondor for inspiration. He had meant to write Legolas a poem to read him that evening at the welcome home festivities, but for some reason, the words would not come.

Lips like two...glowing hobbit sausages! he crowed triumphantly, stopping to jot down his poetic genius before it deserted him once more. Eyelashes like the glistening tears of a small, small boy. A very small boy.

No. It was no good. No good at all. He wept brokenly into his hands. How I wish an avalanche would strike me down this instant, in the midst of my poetic grief and sorrow! he wailed to the winds, flinging himself onto a rock and clawing sadly at his hair.

Up above, a tiny figure staggered across the mountain peaks, driven by a single need. Tripping over a root, Charlie fell flat against a massive boulder, which commenced to roll down the hill. Other rocks followed, and in moments, an avalanche had formed.

Aragorn son of Arathorn glanced up at the sound of roaring rock, but it was too late. Sweet merciful Valar! he shrieked as the rocks covered him forever in a rubbly grave.

Charlie whispered, inching onward.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Gandalf was positively trembling with barely-contained excitement.

he chanted merrily eyeing Brandy Hall from behind his usual bush. Brandybuck, Brandybuck! Brandybuck toes tonight!

said a grave voice from behind him. Brandybuck toes indeed!

Gandalf swiveled quickly. He was going to say something about horning in on another fellow's brunch when he saw who the speaker was.

he cried jovially. Well, I suppose it's alright if it's just -- aaagh.

Merry grinned with much malice as a horde of angry, toeless hobbits came charging over the hill, Frodo Baggins at the head of them.

You are so dead, Gandalf! he snarled with much ferocity.

Gandalf sighed. Here we go again, he said, eyes twinkling, and withdrew his snuffbox.

But in another moment, the hobbits were upon him.

His silver snuffbox clattered slowly to the ground, snuff blossoming from it like glittering tears of angels.

~*~*~*~*~*~

That night, the White Tower was ablaze with light and music. Hobbits swung happily from the chandeliers, their toeless feet paddling the air. A rather sloshed Frodo Baggins was banging excitedly on an oaken table with his jug of ale, eyes sparkling with undisguised emotion.

Climbing up onto the table, the hobbit surveyed the delighted crowd. My dear hobbits, he cried to their spectacular applause. A new day has come for us! I have seen it just now in the downfall of Gandalf, the cooking of his toes! I have seen toeless hobbit children laugh again as they have not laughed since their toes were taken from them! I have seen beauty in the world!

He paused to sample some of Gandalf's toes, which had just been set on the banquet table beside the Pudding of Legolas.

My friends, Frodo continued through his mouthful of meat. My friends, I know what is true. The emptiness we have felt in these last few months of heartless persecution -- all that has vanished. I can freely say to you now that the dial tone is gone from my heart!

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Thank you, MoroTheWolfGod and Samamillion, for being the only reviewers to comment on our previous section (we're afraid we'll have to accept Samamillion's proposal, Abby). With the eventful ending of this story, we hope you will once again be here in droves to extol our majestic storytelling talents.