Hello again! I'm back, with the conclusion to the shampoo story previously told. Yeah, I know it's not as wild as some of my other chapters, but hey. I'm trying to expand and exercise some of my writing "skills" while I'm having fun.

Enjoy! Or not. It's your right to.

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Why, hello again! It's your old friend, the bottle of shampoo. I wished to tell you my second experience with everyone's favorite prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Greenleaf.

Actually, there's little to tell of that, since I mainly served to fill his lungs with my herbal gel and smother him to death, but I'm sure you won't mind the telling.

As you recall, I was left floating down the enchanted river without a label to my name. But what happened next? I shall tell you. There was a journeying troupe of dwarves, what mission they were on I never heard, but they endeavored to cross the river at just the place where I had lodged in a clump of weeds.

Well, one of them fell into the water. He was a rather large fellow, and the splash carried me onto the bank. It didn't seem to be an improvement to me, but then neither did the rather large deer falling upon me either, at the time.

But that was just a misconception, for an hour or two later, an elven hunting party came upon the carcass and lifted it to bear it away.

What cries of astonishment when they saw me! "An omen!" they cried. "An omen! The Lord Legolas will grow hair again!" And in joy they brought me to the stronghold of the king.

Loth was I to return to that place, the judgemental glares of the myriads of hair-care products gazing in contempt at me, a lowly bottle of mystic acids and dried weeds. But return I did. They brought me before Leggy (his hair still as purple as ever!), and told him in little baby words that his time had once again come.

"Lord, once again thy golden tresses shall spring from thy scalp in long, flowing locks!"

"Pwetty?" he said eagerly.

"Yes, thy beauty shall once again be told throughout all the lands, unto Ënglönd, Nû Zeelan, Texás, and Hålléwûd shall ring with thy praises."

"Pwetty!" said Leggy again. It was enough. I gave a shrill whistle of rage (don't tell me you haven't squeezed your own shampoo bottle and heard that noise!), and sprung from the velveteen pillow they had set me on. I lodged myself down his throat. His courtiers tried to pull me out, but it was in vain. Glug! Glug! Glug! I emptied myself into his lungs. A few limp twitches, and it was all over. Leggy was no more.

And as for me, did Hålléwûd ring with my praises? No. I was taken to a bonfire and melted down into a puddle. But here I lay in the dirt, fortuitously melted into an attractively shaped Ring. And who knows what that portends for the future?

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Thank you!