Disclaimer: Neither universe belongs to me. Unfortunately.

A/N: Wow, it's been a heck of a long time since I updated, hasn't it? I'm really sorry, but I wrote most of this chapter over a year ago and then my dad erased my hard drive so I had to rewrite it. It was a traumatizing experience because I'm still discovering stuff that's missing. And they were some of my favorite chapters, too…

love2read27: Yeah, I know. That was meant to be a bit of sarcasm, with the whole thing about mixing them up…hope it didn't put you off reading the rest of the story.

Veilius: No indeed, it's not dead! The story is back! I'm glad you liked it so far…the jam is really my favorite part too. My one truly inspired scene, as far as I'm concerned. At least Linda and I thought so when I came up with it in the library after school one day.

krenya-alenak: Thanks for the reviews! Yeah, Snape's mind is even now being contaminated by Aragorn's happy-go-lucky philosophy. I enjoyed having Snape be conversant with Muggle literature as well…hey, you never know what he's managed to pick up over the years, right?

aerinoutlander: Well, I don't think I've ever had anyone flat-out say my stories were too weird. (looks worried) This isn't good. Anyone else been scared off so far by my twisted sense of humor? Glad you enjoyed what you read!

totallyObsessedwithLOTR: Thanks! I like my name too…I identify so much with Eilonwy, I really do. Yes, Snape and Aragorn are definitely twisted for my story purposes, but it amuses me. Aragorn and Trelawney…(shudders)

sabrina: It makes my day when people think my stuff is funny. Actually, it would be pretty sad otherwise, since it consists entirely of humor…

kippinator: Slashy? Ah ha ha ha ha…oh, you're serious. No, I never write slash. And if I did, rest assured it wouldn't be Snape/Aragorn. Ewwww. (runs off to be sick) Glad you liked it!

Lily Mione Potter: But Legolas is even hotter with his eyes open! (deadpan look) What's so funny about that? What? Just because I lust after Elves…(sniff) Just kidding. Seriously.

technetium: Scaring hobbits is hilarious in itself, I think. Just one of those things I'd love to try…if hobbits existed. Darn. Yeah, I don't think I'll change the title now. Pity, though, it's so pathetic…

Sorry if I missed anyone!

Hot Pursuit

Legolas was tired. His arms were sore from the strenuous labor of putting up posters. His hair was tangled from his wanderings about the castle in search of bulletin boards and other public places. His delicate Elven hands were blistered from the never-ending task of tearing off pieces of tape.

In a word, he found himself in a state that was unnatural to any Elf, and he was not enjoying it one bit.

"Keep it up, lad, that's the spirit!" roared Sir Cadogan, charging down the hallway through several picture frames. The knight, whom Legolas had decided was senile at best, seemed none the worse for wear, which made Legolas intensely jealous and added to his already considerable irritability.

"Shut up," Legolas snapped, ignoring him and searching for somewhere, anywhere, to stick his last six signs and get it over with. At this point, he no longer really cared whether they were visible to others or not, just as long as he never had to see them again…

Ah! An empty stretch of wall, unmarred by any wall sconces, statues, or—Legolas thought of Sir Cadogan and shuddered—portraits. Very good. Very good indeed. In fact, almost too good to be true.

Suddenly suspicious, Legolas looked warily around the corridor. His legendary Elven vision didn't see any possible threats in the form of booby traps, Peeves, or unenlightened humans opposing the rise of Elfkind, but a vague uneasiness still lingered in the back of his mind.

You're imagining things, he told himself sternly. What could possibly go wrong?

As Legolas would have known if he had listened to his infinitely wiser (though somewhat less hot) father Thranduil, "What could possibly go wrong?" is among the worst possible phrases in any language. Despite its inherent optimism, it inevitably heralds some sort of immediate misfortune, usually the worst possible thing that can go wrong under the circumstances.

Blissfully unaware of the consequences of invoking Murphy's Law, Legolas turned back to the chosen spot on the wall and prepared to end his day's toil. If he put a sign there…and there…and there…

"Perfect," Legolas murmured as he put up the next-to-last sign. Such was his relief and joy at having the end in sight that he even felt a momentary surge of kindness toward poor old Sir Cadogan.

Grinning from ear to pointed ear, he turned toward the nearest picture frame. "You know, I'm really glad—" he began.

And then Murphy's Law took over.

Legolas froze suddenly as he became aware of a steadily growing noise in the background. His trained senses automatically catalogued it. About fifty people, rapidly approaching on foot. What was going on?

Now he heard voices as well as footsteps. "I know!" Shrill giggles. "He's sooooo hot…" More giggles. Obviously a group of savages, even less civilized than the Haradrim—although, for that matter, all humans of his acquaintance were uncivilized savages. Still, this particular band might pose some danger, if their war cries indicated anything of their ferocity…

"Sounds like trouble, eh?" Sir Cadogan wheezed, looking more alert than Legolas had thought possible. At least, he looked less out of it then usual.

Much as Legolas hated to admit it, Sir Cadogan was probably right. Quickly, Legolas began to prepare the last poster—if he could get it up and then run, he wouldn't have to worry about it later. Just one more piece of tape—

The savages rounded the nearest corner, coming into view twenty feet down the corridor. Legolas gulped and turned to flee.

Too late. "Look!" A shriek even more bloodcurdling than the previous ones went up from the midst of the group. Immediately, the herd of teenage girls, as Legolas had now identified them, came barreling toward him at top speed. This was just not his day.

It was impossible to outrun all of them, Legolas thought resignedly. He would have to stay and trust to his formidable charm and presence to pull him through this. "Look, ladies," he said smoothly. "I realize you are all overcome by my amazing good looks and long blond hair, but—"

"LEGOLAS!" screamed one girl near the front of the pack, increasing her speed. Others did the same. Legolas looked around wildly for an escape route, some sort of convenient magical stairway or secret passage, but he was out of luck this time. Where were those hidden trapdoors when he needed them?

To his horror, he stumbled as he began to back away. It would be death to show weakness to a pack of predators like these! "I'm extremely dangerous," he called a little shakily. "D-don't come n-near me or I'll—"

He didn't have time to think of just what he would do if they came near him. As one, the girls charged him, and the Elf was forced to flee for his life in a most undignified manner. "This is absolutely ridiculous," he muttered.

"Sir Cadogan!" he yelled in the general direction of the nearest picture frame. "A little help here?" But the knight had disappeared, leaving Legolas to face this danger alone.

Frantically, Legolas looked around for something, anything to save him. Nothing seemed forthcoming. He sped past innumerable tapestries, portraits, and suits of armor. Maybe he could hide in one…but no. Even his elven grace wouldn't give him time to get into a suit of armor before the fangirls rounded the corner and spotted him.

"I'm not really as attractive as you think I am!" he lied at the top of his lungs to the pursuing girls. "It's a wig, you know!" It hurt to let a falsehood like that pass his lips, even in self-defense, but maybe it would work.

It didn't. The girls screamed louder and ran faster, judging from the sound like a herd of baby buffalo ten yards behind him. Legolas winced.

Suddenly, he had a wonderful idea. He was still holding the last forlorn poster that he had been on the point of putting up. Quickly, Legolas reached into the pouch that hung at his side and pulled out a convenient pencil. He must have taken it from the common room the night before just in case—it never ceased to amaze him how conveniently lucky he could be sometimes.

As he ran, Legolas began to scribble on the paper. He looked up. Perfect—just ahead the passageway split left and right. Reaching the fork, Legolas hastily propped the sign against the wall and took the left corridor. He held his breath, waiting to see what would happen.

The fangirls slowed for a moment as they read the sign: HE WENT THATAWAY:--> With a shriek of excitement, the whole horde thundered off to the right, their cries growing fainter and fainter. Legolas slid down the wall wearily, relieved at his narrow escape. Even Elves could not match the speed of obsessed teenagers.

Wait! What was that? Legolas' ears pricked up more than usual at the sound of a bloodcurdling scream from the direction the girls had gone. Would that have been his fate if not for his lucky break? He shuddered and made a face at the thought.

Driven by a morbid curiosity, Legolas found himself making his way stealthily down the right fork of the hallway toward the source of the racket. Whatever part of his character made him a Good Person was nagging at him to help the poor unfortunate soul who had apparently run afoul of the mob. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to return it to its usual state of godlike perfection, and sighed, wondering why he always had to be such a Good Person.

Another scream pierced the air, this one from the throng of girls. "Malfoy! Don't let him get away!" Malfoy…Legolas remembered that name well. The boy in the Great Hall at breakfast, the one who had seemed to have entirely too much success with the young ladies. His rival in blond hotness.

That did it, Legolas decided. His conscience had nothing to do with this now. No, now he wanted to get closer to see the fun for himself—this was a type of female attention he was only too happy to leave to Malfoy. And he didn't want to miss any death or dismemberment that might occur as a result of an attack on the Slytherin.

While he analyzed his own slightly twisted motives, Legolas had steadily moved closer to the noise until he stopped, peering around a bend in the hallway at the object of his observation. He could now see the crowd of Hogwarts girls, squealing with excitement as they jostled each other. They were gathered in a tightening circle around a figure that Legolas presumed was Draco Malfoy, although it was impossible to see his face from the angle afforded by the Elf's hiding place just around the corner. The whole thing reminded him of sacrifice rituals he had heard about in which tribes of wild men would dance in a ring around their captives before tearing them limb from limb. He found himself smiling at the image.

The crowd shifted conveniently so that Legolas had a clear view of Malfoy, who looked understandably nervous but not yet terrified, despite his earlier scream of shock. "What's all this about?" he was asking with a trace of his usual smirk. "Can't keep your hands off me, ladies?"

All traces of humor left his voice when one of the nearest crazed fangirls made a grab for a handful of his robes. "AAAAAH! Get away! What are you doing?" He danced backward, but quickly realized his mistake when he bumped squarely into a redhead with a fierce glint in her eyes. "Are you all mad? Why are you—"

The girls closed in for the kill, shoving each other aside for the opportunity to steal a kiss or a lock of hair from their heartthrob. It looked like the end for Malfoy, and it was all Legolas could do to restrain himself from grinning outright.

Then something changed. Somehow, Malfoy managed to look over the heads of the mob, and his eyes briefly made contact with Legolas' own. "Wait!" he yelled. "Over there! Isn't that Legolas Greenleaf?"

Alarmed, Legolas ducked around the corner, but it was too late. As one, the girls' heads swiveled, their eyes suddenly riveted on him. An excited babble grew as their atrophied brains took in the situation—two equally handsome targets within their reach.

It was only a matter of time, Legolas knew, before they made a decision and went after either him or Malfoy. He already knew reasoning wouldn't work, and he didn't intend to create an incident by slaughtering mere children, no matter how obviously un-innocent. There was no way out.

Curse that demon Malfoy.

Wait! Perhaps he could escape yet…if these monsters were as mindless as they seemed…Legolas stepped out from his hiding place, already thinking fast. "You can't get both of us, you know," he said reasonably. "One of us is bound to get away. You're not going to let a—" What was the term? Think, Legolas, think! "—a 'total hottie' like Malfoy escape, are you?"

It worked. The girls hesitated, torn between Malfoy and Legolas, and both males seized the opportunity and bolted in opposite directions. Legolas sprinted down the hallway, not stopping or even looking back for a good ten minutes. At last he judged that he had almost certainly outstripped his pursuers and slowed to a brisk walk. It was actually fairly relaxing, and he found himself feeling secure enough to admire the paintings he passed rather than looking around for enemy ambushes.

This lasted until he collided with Draco Malfoy at a turn in the corridor. Legolas fell flat on his face, berating himself for being so absentminded that his natural elven grace had deserted him at an inopportune moment like this. The only consolation was that Malfoy was suffering the same humiliation.

"So. Elf," said Malfoy, rolling over onto his back with a groan and massaging his temple where he and Legolas had crashed into each other.

"So," Legolas agreed eloquently, wincing as he probed a similar tender spot on his forehead. "You are a worthy opponent, human." They both lay still for a moment, trying to summon the energy to get up. Legolas rose to his feet first and offered Malfoy a helping hand, which he ignored.

The Slytherin sneered up at Legolas. "Oh, you'll find I am more than worthy," he boasted. "I'll get you, and your midget friend too. It's only a matter of time."

Legolas almost corrected his misuse of the term "midget", but stopped himself in time. This wasn't about Gimli. He could deal with any guilt resulting from the jam incident later, when it wouldn't jeopardize his credibility as a rival. "We'll see about that," he replied with an enigmatic arch of his eyebrow. These humans were so unobservant. Why, this one hadn't even begun to notice the rebellion organizing right under his nose!

Without another word, Malfoy snorted, turned his back on Legolas, and stalked down the corridor. Legolas couldn't resist. "You'll be the first to go after the house-elf rebellion," he promised in a just-barely-audible tone. Malfoy didn't say anything, but he stiffened and cast an abortive glance over his shoulder at Legolas, then began walking even faster. Pathetic human. Legolas had no fears that he could do anything to stop the coming revolution, even if anyone believed him when he tried to warn them.

Speaking of which…he would have to consult with this Dobby again, now that the signs were up. House-elves all over the castle would be noticing them as they went about their daily tasks, and they were bound to stir up feelings of both anticipation and fear. It would be Legolas' job to calm their fears and assure them that he would usher in a new age of prosperity and socks for all.

The fangirls forgotten for the moment, Legolas savored the thought of himself at the head of the diminutive army, brandishing pots, pans, and pokers. Ah, yes, it would be glorious indeed! Ah, how sweet victory would be. Aaaaah…

Legolas realized he was stifling a huge yawn with difficulty. This was quite understandable—after all, he had had a very trying day, between posters and screaming hordes. He needed to keep up his strength for the house-elves. They were counting on him, and he had no intention of letting them down. Obviously, a nap was in order.

Aided by his unerring sense of direction, Legolas headed for the Gryffindor common room and some well-earned rest.

A/N: Wheeheehee! First chapter in a year and a half! Yes, I never abandon stories…sometimes I just don't have time. I hate it, but there it is. Schoolwork. After junior year, I figure senior year can't throw anything much worse at me…but then again, maybe it can. I've heard terrible things about AP English IV. But for now, I have three blessed months of summer in which to sleep and read. Oh, and I suppose I could update too, if you insist. No, no, really, you're too kind. No, no autographs…ha. Right.