"So let me get this straight, supposedly I make a penis reference in a family film adapted from one of the most beloved children's books of all time?" Tauriel asked me for the uptenth time.

"Um, yes," I reassured her again. "You did. Or rather, she did. Or they did, whichever way you want to look at it…" I watched my friend carefully, having never before witnessed her in a state of such distress. I had no idea the outcomes of such a revelation, but remembered my own time post films with no nostalgic fondness.

"A penis reference," she enunciated, her eyebrows threatening to disappear into her hairline. "In a children's movie."

"Yes."

"So I—an immortal being and consummate professional representing my gender, species, ethnicity and my King—start sexualized banter with a prisoner?" she continued, left hand ashen around the hilt of her slowly twirling hunting knife.

"Heh," Gimli opined, his unhelpful presence as unwelcome as ever. "No, lass, that would be the dwarf."

"So I respond to said sexual harassment with flirtation?" she demanded coldly.

"Empowering women everywhere," I offered with what I hoped was enough sarcastic chagrin to lighten the tone.

"Oh, yes. Because we've all seen how well that's worked out for The Dark Knight and Twilight fandoms," she paced the room in a wolfish fashion. "One woman. One chance, and they blew it all on an innuendo my second line of dialogue?"

"Aye, lass," Gimli belched, wiping foaming ale from his beard with one coarse hand. "So it would seem."

"And then I proceed to purposefully seek out said dwarf after being told off my boss and love interest's father—"

"I'm so not your love interest," I groaned. "And I can't help it if my father's a bit…possessive?"

"—then I shamelessly and obiously flirt with him between bars, am overheard by my best friend/love interest, make my feelings so obvious an orc prisoner can smell the sexual tension in the room, get dismissed from an interrogation for unprofessional behavior, abandon my position as the youngest female minority to have ever achieved the rank of Captain of the King's Guard to chase after my would-be-lover all on the word of an untrustworthy prisoner who had every reason to antagonize me—"

"I actually hadn't thought about that," I confessed. "Confessions coerced under torture aren't exactly known for their consistency."

"—then with my country in a state of internal crisis I convince my best friend and heir to the throne to do the same in the name of fighting evil, and when finally confronted with the choice of fighting evil so as not to allow it to 'spread to other lands' or 'grow', I chose to sacrifice my career, my best friendship and the entirety of Middle Earth for a man I met merely a day ago?" she brandishes the blade in a dangerous arc.

"Dwarf!" Gimli shouted from the table through a mouthful of lamb leg and grease.

"Fine! Dwarf!" Tauriel snapped in exasperation, flinging the dagger into the wall in a whistling whir. It clung, quivering, buried halfway up to the hilts.

"I'm with Tauriel on that one, Gimli," I finally said when I deemed it safe enough to continue. "For all intents and purposes Kili is four foot tall Aragorn."

"You mean four foot tall Faramir," Tauriel regarded in disgust. "Thorin does all the Elessaring in this movie."

"Okay, Kili is four foot tall Faramir with greasy long Aragorn hair and a scraggly beard," I stated.

"I don't care if he's four foot tall Aragorn, Faramir, or Tom 'hey-merry-dol' Bombadil," she scowled. "My point is that after all that hype about not being isolationist, about 'being part of this world', about not making selfish political decisions that will leave others vulnerable and despite knowing the absurdity and danger of one Elf trailing a pack of orcs on his or her own, I still chose my personal romantic feelings over saving the world or even accompanying my best friend to make sure he doesn't get killed?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, scuffing the floor with the toe of my left boot. "Thanks for that."

"What is this movie supposed to be teaching young girls!" she cried.

"Um…true love conquers all?" I offered timidly.

"Oh, fuck you, Legolas," Tauriel glowered. "Is there a single female trope that wasn't used in this movie? And did they have to put my name on all of them?"

"Um, austere bossy black lady?" I observed. "At least they didn't make you do that."

"No, no," she hissed, working the dagger out of the wall with no small unease. "I'm just the saucy, feisty, ethnic minority who repeatedly tells you what to do and who isn't good enough by your daddy's standards to marry you for reasons of race."'

"Oh, Eru," I observed, aghast. "You're like black princess Leia with a bow! How did they even do that—?"