Took me a while to get back to you, dear journal, didn't it? I apologize. Such a busy couple of days I've had. Here's what happened:

An agonizingly long time after I'd sent Gimli out to find Legolas (probably about ten minutes in reality, but it seemed like forever), the tent flaps opened and there he stood: my prince, my lad, my pretty-boy, my heartbreaker. He was more beautiful than ever - probably due to laundry and bathing facilities being available in nearby Minas Tirith - and all I could do was stare for a moment. All he did, in return, was stare back at me; no smile, no frown, no anger, no happiness; just that blasted Elven serenity.

"Well, ask him!" demanded Gimli, who was hovering around his hip. "Ask him about Aragorn! See if he can lie!"

Legolas and I both looked at him.

I found my voice. "I don't suppose you'd leave us, Gimli?" I requested.

"Not till you ask him! I'd like to hear him try to get away with this one! Use his honey-sweet Elf voice on you, he will - he'll charm you like that wretched Saruman does!"

"Master Dwarf," said Legolas. (Ah! his voice! How I missed hearing it.) "Do stop babbling like an idiot, and leave us."

"What will I get if I do?" he leered.

"I'll tell you what you get if you don't," said Legolas, "and it involves my knife, and your beard."

Gimli glared, muttered something in one of those hairball-noise Dwarven languages, and stomped out of the tent.

Legolas and I were left staring at each other. He took a step closer, but still stayed well out of reach. "You have won great renown," he told me, with the politest formality. "Your deeds are being spoken of in all corners of the realm, and soon all of Middle-earth will know your name. You shall surely enter Elven tales as well, and on behalf of my race I wish to offer you my deepest gratitude and admir-"

"Oh, shut up!" I interrupted, in despair. "Why haven't you come to see me?"

"I did see you, when they first rescued you," he said. "You weren't conscious, that's all. You wouldn't remember."

"Is it true about Aragorn?"

"That he has claimed the kingship? Yes."

"Stop it. You know what I mean. Helm's Deep? A coat closet??"

Finally he began to look the tiniest bit sheepish. He folded his hands behind his back and examined a spot on the ground. "It was the dwarf, I suppose, who told you that."

"Well, is it true?"

There was a stretch of silence before he answered. "It is true," he said, "but it was the only time." And then, just as I was about to scream something jealous and bitter at him, he looked at me with a strange flash in his eyes. "You are not the only one who's heard gossip, Frodo. I spoke to Faramir."

"I never touched Faramir," I said, repulsed.

"No, and he's quite dismayed about that. But he says you and Samwise were rolling about together on the forest floor when he found you - not far from here, as a matter of fact."

"But I - you already knew I kissed Sam. You were there when it first happened! You kissed him, too!"

"Not by choice," Legolas pointed out.

"Well, look, I only did it because I couldn't have you. And because I thought I was going to die. It wasn't as if I really enjoyed it."

"Has it ever occurred to you that the same situation held for Aragorn and myself?"

I felt very foolish all of a sudden, for in truth it hadn't occurred to me. I hadn't dared to hope it was so simple. I played with the edge of the bedcovers, and mumbled, "Oh. Well. I...I hear Helm's Deep was indeed a dangerous battle."

"Yes; it's rather a miracle we won." He still sounded defensive.

"Then I suppose I...I could see how you might think it was your last night alive."

"That's exactly what I thought," he said. Then he added, in a more chastened tone, "Though...I imagine it was nothing compared to Mount Doom."

I shrugged, keeping my eyes down. "Mount Doom was no big deal."

"You needn't be modest. You were quite brave and you saved us all." Then he added, almost timidly, "I'm very proud of you."

That brought silly tears to my eyes, I must admit. I looked up at him, and found him gazing longingly at me. At the same moment we both wailed, "I'm sorry!", and in a twinkling he was on the bed with me, wrapping me up in his arms. I clung to him as fiercely as my strength would allow, inhaling the heady scent of cloves and cinnamon and Elven magic.

"I never should have let you go alone," he lamented.

"I missed you so much," I said.

"I thought my heart would fail me and I would fade away."

"I don't know how I survived without you."

"Sweet little Frodo...oh, your poor hand." He found my wounded hand and started kissing it.

"Be careful," I laughed. "Aragorn was doing that earlier."

"Oh, well; I'm already contaminated with his germs, aren't I?" He made a face - a grimace which he then turned into a lovely, mischievous smile.

"You still want me, then?" I asked.

"Dearest, I told you I would. All you had to do was destroy the Ring."

"Oh, ALL I had to do?" I retorted - since, after all, that task was not exactly a matter of strolling down a garden path and flinging a coin into a stream - but I forgot my sarcasm when he hooked an arm around my neck and pulled me into a deep kiss.

It was several minutes before we bothered speaking again, and by that point we were lying side by side with my blankets tangled around us. When he did speak, it was with surprising heat in his voice: "I cannot wait another minute for you," he growled. "It is not like my people to be impatient, but I want you so badly..."

"It is not like my people to be easy, but I'm happy to oblige," I answered, and pushed him onto his back.

So it happened that when Aragorn suddenly walked into the tent a short time later, he found me with my nightshirt pulled up, straddling Legolas with his trousers pulled down, and sliding against him. How very awkward.

I yelped and dived forward; Legolas suavely caught me and held me against his chest, sweeping the sheets up to hide our vital parts. Aragorn, meanwhile, stood there with his mouth hanging open, looking like he was in both extreme pleasure and extreme pain.

"I don't suppose, Aragorn," said Legolas, as polite as you please, "that you could come back in half an hour or so?"

"I...apologize," Aragorn pronounced, with an effort, "but I...wanted to invite the coronation, that a hickie, dear Frodo, or a bruise?"

I tried to see the spot on my collarbone he was staring at, but it was at an awkward angle for my eyes. "Could be either," I mused.

Legolas studied it for a moment, then gave it a quick kiss. "Not a bruise, I wager."

Aragorn had tilted his face as if to get a better look at things, but now he briskly shook his head and stepped back. "I suppose, then...if you don't require my services..."

His "services"? Ew.

"No, we'd much rather do this without your services," Legolas answered.

"Right." Aragorn bowed, and moved toward the tent flaps, then paused and turned to us again. "Actually - you know - as king of the realm, I do believe I have certain privileges, and when I tell you that I wish to stand here and watch..."

"Your Majesty," Legolas cut in, a little more sharply.

"Really, Strider," I added. "What would the Queen say?"

"I daresay she'd ask whether she could watch, too," Legolas muttered, and we both giggled.

"Fine," sighed Aragorn. Then he stood up straight, and looked almost royal for a moment. "But, my friends, what I have already seen will shine a light on my thoughts for all my days. And for that I thank you."

"Most poetically spoken," said Legolas. The words oozed sarcasm, but I'm not sure Aragorn noticed.

"As you leave, please, could you put a guard outside the tent?" I requested.

"Preferably a straight male or a lesbian," Legolas added.

"I will do what I can," said Aragorn, "but I must tell you: ever since they laid eyes upon the pair of you, I do not think there are many men left in my army who are entirely straight."

Well, he finally left, and frankly I don't have any idea whether there were new guards installed outside or not. Legolas and I resumed what we had been doing, and got carried away, and, I daresay, would not have stopped again even if Sauron himself had walked in swinging the Ring on a diamond watch-chain.

Afterward, we fell asleep together in my little bed - Legolas had to curl up on his side to keep his feet from dangling off the end - and had a lovely afternoon nap. We were rudely awakened by Samwise, who was apparently now up and dressed. I opened my eyes to find him sitting with us on the bed, thoughtfully gazing at my Elven lover, whose blond tresses were splashed across the pillow in gorgeous disarray.

"Sam, what are you doing here?" I complained.

My voice awakened Legolas, who turned and frowned at Sam as well.

"Awaiting my hundred kisses," he said, and folded his arms patiently. "At your leisure, Mr. Legolas, sir."

Legolas groaned, sat up, took Sam's waistcoat in one hand, and pulled him forward for a brief, imprecise kiss. Then he let go of him (Sam fell over on the covers) and said, "There. Ninety-nine to go. We'll talk later."

* * *

Hrrrmf. I thought life would get easier now that the Ring has been destroyed. I mean, sure, don't get me wrong, life right now is certainly an improvement over starving to death in an Orc uniform in Mordor. But I sort of thought everyone would get over me, once I got rid of the Ring and its dark alluring powers.

I see now that I was mistaken. And poor Legolas has it just as bad. Because now, you see, we're famous and everyone loves us. Great. Just what we needed.

We are in the largest city in Middle-earth, home to twenty thousand citizens, and it seems every last one of them is stalking either me or my boyfriend. Everywhere we go, men and women alike start yelling, "All hail the Ringbearer! Wow, I heard he was cute but I didn't know they meant CUTE!" and "Three cheers for the Elven archer, comrade to King Elessar! DAMN, you're hot!" Charming, Gondorians, really charming. I see now where Boromir got his subtlety. Legolas and I have taken to wearing our swords around Minas Tirith, to ward off the mobs.

And it's not like our friends, the old Fellowship, are any better. They're all in a celebrating mood, and you know what THAT means. "Oh, Legolas? Oh, Frodo? Come play Spin-the-Flask with us! Come play Strip Poker with us! Come play Hide-the-Star-Glass with us!" It's so depraved, I can't begin to tell you.

Meanwhile, Sam interrupts us at least five times a day to claim his kisses. The debt is now down to 67. He likes to do this in public places where a lot of people can see him and envy him. Poor Legolas is getting quite the reputation as a swinging hobbit-fancier.

We are thinking of running away together, my Elf and me. We've got to get away from the others. I mean, for heaven's sake, I agreed to do the quest thing; I didn't agree to spend my whole bloody life with these people.

* * *

We left Minas Tirith; yay! But we're traveling with about sixty people - boooo.

At least we lost the Ithilien/Rohan contingent today. We came to a crossroads where they had to separate from us, and everyone spent about three hours hugging and crying and giving each other gifts. Really lame, considering they only live a four-days'-ride apart.

Eomer, Faramir, and Eowyn insisted upon giving Legolas and me big goodbye hugs. Eowyn even kissed us, under the pretext of a princess giving a royal farewell to her knights, but somehow I don't think a princess is supposed to squeeze a knight's arse and slip him the tongue while she kisses him. Got to say, though, it was more pleasant than getting my face scrubbed raw by Eomer and Faramir's beards when THEY hugged me. Yuck. And I don't even want to know whether that was the hilt of a dagger under Faramir's tunic, or what exactly.

Gimli and Gandalf have left us, too. Had to watch them run their hands over Legolas's thighs one last time, when they hugged him. I saw a knife flash at his wrist both times, but he apparently restrained himself, because neither of them screamed or ended up limping. He can be so patient and kind when he wants to be.

In another day or two, apparently, we say goodbye to Aragorn. Expect lots of kingly slobber to contaminate the next entry. Blah.

Number of kisses Legolas owes Sam: 38. I think even Sam is getting bored. He looked jealous about the Eowyn-arse-grab thing - jealous that he didn't get to kiss her too, that is. I think he was just one of those BUQIO's. (You know: 'Bisexual Until Quest Is Over.')

Anyway, think I'll go rinse the taste of Rohan-woman out of my mouth by luring Legolas into the shrubbery and asking if I might have a nibble of that underpants-leaf. Mmmm...underpants...

* * *

Yes, Aragorn tongued us both goodbye. The less said about that, the better. He also promised to come out to the Shire every year and visit. Oh, great. I'm really thinking I'll have to move fairly soon, and not give anyone my new address.

Except of course Legolas. As it happens, we'll have to be apart for a few days. I'm very peeved about this, but he says that if he wants to run away with me, it would be best to go home to Mirkwood first and let his mom and dad know. Although I'll miss him, he had the most exciting suggestion: maybe we could hop the ship to Valinor! Now THAT would get us away from everyone.

Well, I'll try not to get my hopes up. And I'll try to be happy for Legolas even while I miss him, because he seems excited to see his family again. Apparently it's been a century or so. I guess when you're immortal that's normal, but MY family would sure consider it rude.

Incidentally, Legolas owes Sam 14 more kisses.

* * *

It's been an eventful couple of weeks. I am, finally, back in Bag End and have kicked out the squatters who had taken over the place. Can you believe they put orange and yellow macrame rugs on the floors, and lava oil-lamps on the walls? I mean, what year did they think this was? S.R. 1394? Some hobbits have no taste.

I missed Legolas very much for the five days we were apart - plus, I constantly had to fight off Merry and Pippin, who kept clamoring at my door for a three-way - but the time passed quickly enough, with redecorating and whatnot.

Then last night, at nearly midnight, there was a brisk knock at my front door. And when I opened it, who stormed in but Legolas! He had to duck, of course, and walk around hunched over to avoid hitting the rafters, but even that he did with grace, as he does everything. I tried to embrace him in greeting, but he was clearly in the blackest mood. He made me shut the door, and he just paced around, sniffling and angrily wiping rain off his cheeks.

Then I realized with astonishment that it wasn't rain - he was actually crying.

"My dear, what is it?" I asked.

"The least they could do is tell me," he said, somewhat incoherently.

"Who? What? Please, sit down." I caught his arm and guided him to the table, and sat him down. I kissed his fingers, which were damp and cool from the night ride, and looked up at his beautiful face, no less beautiful even when his eyes were swollen from tears. "I've never seen you cry before," I said.

He shot me a knife-edged look. "That's because I usually KILL anyone who sees me cry."

"Oh. Well, I value your trust, and I hope I live through the night."

He bowed his head, nodded, and kissed my hands.

"Now, what's wrong?" I asked. "Did you see your parents? Do they disapprove?"

He tugged a crumpled piece of parchment from inside his shirt, and pushed it at me. "I go home to Mirkwood, the whole place is abandoned, and THIS is thumbtacked to the front gate."

Slowly I translated the Sindarin aloud: "Dear Legolas: We're off to the Grey Havens. We hear you did a good job in Mordor. Nice work, honey! We're proud. But, we do not feel like hanging around to see the new world order imposed by this Elessar fellow. We've heard he is something of a whore. Anyway, we're too old for change. Sorry we didn't wait for you. See you in Valinor someday, maybe. Love, Mom and Dad."

I set down the note and touched Legolas's cheek in sympathy. "Oh, you poor thing. You wanted to see them so much..."

"They abandoned me. I can't believe this. Have you any idea what kind of betrayal this is, among our kind? To go to the Grey Havens without properly saying goodbye to your kin? To see your childhood home deserted, empty?"

"Try seeing your living room done up in orange and yellow," I sighed. When he gave me a confused glance, I quickly added, "Never mind. My dear, I'm very sorry. I don't have your life experience, or anywhere near it, but I did get orphaned when I was just a lad. I think I understand, and I feel for you."

He pulled me onto his lap, and rested his forehead in my hair. "I suppose I'm being very spoiled and childish," he said.

"Not at all," I told him. Then I squeezed his hands and reminded him, "You know, this is quite easy to solve."


"We go across the sea and find them."

Legolas lifted his head and stared into my eyes. "You'd do that?"

"Elrond said I could. Since I was a Ringbearer, and all."

"But - you'd leave your friends, and your home? Forever?"

I grimaced. "Oh, please. I'm sick of these people. And now that I'm famous they won't give me a moment's peace. Leaving Middle-earth with you sounds like the best idea anyone's suggested in years."

He held my hands tightly, still staring at me. "Are you sure, completely sure? You can't go back, you know; it's a one-way boat."

"What; they're accumulating boats over there?" I laughed. He didn't seem to get the joke, so I moved along and answered his question: "Yes. I am sure."

And he hugged me, and started to kiss me, and shortly thereafter swept the bread knife and the apples off the table and pressed me down onto it, and by the way, he does the most interesting thing with jam...but I needn't tell you about THAT.

Valinor! Can you believe it?

* * *

Bye-bye, Shire! We're on the ship, Legolas and Bilbo and Elrond and Galadriel and me - oh, and Gandalf, unfortunately, who is taking advantage of my momentary distraction by trying to tickle Legolas with his pipe as I write this - but think of it! Merry and Pippin will never grope me again, after that last fondle they gave me on the pier! Faramir and Eomer will never hug us and press their manly bits against us again! We even got away without having to see Aragorn, who surely would have kissed us in the most disgusting way.

And Sam - well, when we were at the Grey Havens, I willingly gave Sam a kiss goodbye. He was a good boy and went and got married, after all, and I do trust him enough to give him Bag End, and I know he won't do it up in tacky colors in my absence. Legolas then stepped in, gallantly, to offer Sam his last five kisses - for that was the score he owed.

Sam kissed Legolas four times, then moved back.

"Don't you want the last one?" Legolas asked.

"Not just yet," said Sam, with a strange little smile. "I'll be coming over to claim it someday, though."

Legolas sighed and looked pleadingly at Elrond, but Elrond had to admit that since Sam, also, had been a Ringbearer, he had the right to come to Valinor if he wanted to. Chances are it'll be fifty or sixty years, though, so we get a pretty good honeymoon out of this deal.

Thus, in the end, as you see, we are still not entirely free of our stalkers. And there's always the odd chance that the Valar will take a fancy to one (or both) of us. Heaven forbid! I mean, how are we supposed to politely say "no" to THEM?

But that's a trouble for another day.

Strangely, I think I'll miss my old molesters. But then I remind myself that I'm headed for the land of undying Elven undergarments, and how can I do anything but smile?

* * *


(Really! The end! That's it; go home!)