Disclaimer: I don't own LotR or Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. *sigh*
Author's note: Sorry this is a bit late! And yes to most of you who guessed on Amtrack. It is a train system. Mostly in Massachusetts I think...but I know I've taken one from New York. Anyhow. Here's the new chapter. When I wrote it I was in a very...odd...mood so don't let my vocab. bog you down. If it doesn't disregard the last comment. Happy reading!
Legolas sat back down in a chair. Now he had to deal with short hair, a headache, an earache, an insulting hobbit and an irate elf. And all because of an email. He sighed and walked back to his room.
Legolas crossed his room and sat down on his bed. Strangely enough, though, he heard a crumpling noise; and it had been many years since comforters had been made out of leaves in Mirkwood. Legolas stood up and found that he had sat on a small, and now slightly crumpled, note. He flattened it and read 'Talk to Frodo' on it.
Though Legolas knew not who wrote it, he felt that it was probably urgent due to the messy handwriting. Urgent as it may be, though, the last thing Legolas really wanted to do was rush down to see Frodo. He sighed, and slowly left his room again.
You know, he thought to himself as he walked down the hall, If you add one line under the 'h' in hobbit and flip the 'b' 's upside-down you'd have boppit. Legolas smiled at the thought of bopping the hobbit. That thought was enough to keep him from turning away from the dungeons and running.
By the time the dungeons were reached, the thought had faded and dread rose anew. Legolas really didn't want to see the hobbit, boppit, and he assumed the feelings were mutual.
This assumption was proven when Frodo greeted him by saying, "Hello you ex-long haired, still fluffy pansy, prince wanna-be!" Then the hobbit smiled, which almost more disturbing than growling.
Any composure Legolas tried to keep while bearing with the hobbit was lost at the smile. He screamed. "Is that anyway to talk to someone who can hear seagulls and not go to the sea?!" He cried.
Frodo paused to think. "No," he replied after a while. "It's how you talk to an ex-long haired, still fluffy pansy, prince wanna-be."
If Legolas had had any more hair, he would have tried to rip some out. Considering at the moment he already had very little, he tried to regain composure.
"Frodo...," he began.
"Leggie?" Frodo smile sweetly.
Legolas could not take much more of the smiling. He decided to take a more aggressive approach. "You poor, poor child...," he sighed, shaking his head.
Frodo glared. "Who are you calling a child? I was 53 when I left for the Grey Havens!"
"Ah, yes!" Legolas continued airily. "Little more than an infant!"
Frodo glared even more. "Oh, yeah? Well I don't look a day older than 33! And at least I'm not as old as dirt!"
"Dirt is much older than anyone here!" Legolas exclaimed in mock puzzlement.
"You know what I mean," Frodo was now glaring so had that all of the woodland creatures within 100 feet of the palace ran.
"If you were talking about me, I'm only in my 6 thousands. And I'm sorry to inform you, but I refuse to talk to people who don't know their facts."
"Well...well...you wouldn't stand a whelk's chance in a supernova!"
Legolas smiled. "Goodbye, my good boppit."
At with that he left Frodo puzzling over his last comment.
