Legolas had to duck to get inside the Hobbit hole, but this was no hardship, not really. Not when the house itself was so interesting. He'd never been in a house quite like this before. He had to be careful not to hit his head or scratch his bow along the ceiling, but that hardly mattered.
"It's fascinating," he said, looking here and there at things tucked on shelves, at pictures and pots and furniture, all of it worth his curious consideration. It was so vastly different from Elven homes, a little crowded and cramped, full of odds and ends, with overstuffed furniture and round, cheery windows set into its sloping, rounded walls. It was all lovely and strange, and he loved lovely and strange, intensely. But he came into the kitchen at last, and eased himself down onto a bench at the kitchen table. He was relieved at that -- he was worried about fitting into a chair, really.
"Tea time?" Legolas asked curiously. This was not a meal commonly encountered amongst the Elves.