"Have you heard the big news?" Tauriel panted breathlessly, her boots and long robes still caked in mud from a fresh day's hunt in the forest. But her bright eyes had that familiar shine and that I-know-something-you-don't-know smirk was taut across her clever lips.
As the Esgaroth Herald had already proclaimed
Tauriel 'Feels Lucky' to Have Prince Legolas Still in Her Life!
and today's River Running Tattler had already put the word "Rudderless" in my mouth over our supposed break-up, I was almost afraid to ask.
[I'd mention the whole "Tauriel Reveals She Wants to 'Explore' Her Bisexuality" fiasco, but frankly I'd fear for my life if she ever heard me repeating it, even in jest. Her wrath on the media promoting women as only interesting or newsworthy for their sexuality and/or sex appeal was quite terrible to behold.]
"No," I began cautiously, "but I have the terrible feeling I'm about to."
"You haven't heard, laddie?" Gimli poked his head in from the washroom, naked from the waist-up. We were—praise the Valar!—spared any further netherglimpses by a lucky placed yet still woefully inadequate towel. "The Desolation of Smaug came out on Blue-Ray!"
"The theatrical cut," I rolled my eyes, returning to skinning rabbits for tonight's stew. "Call me when something interesting like the extended edition gets released." Been there, done that all back in December. I'd already gone through nearly a decade and a half of fangirlageddon, so something as simple as a dvd release really didn't phase me.
"Oh, no, mellon," she slipped into mocking faux-Sindarin with a roll of her eyes, in celebration of that accursed movie. "I'm referring to the shocking events of the century on The One Ring. Net."
I dropped a now gutted rabbit into the sink. "What now? What could possibly be worse than that Fili and Kili trailer reaction?"
"Oh, plenty," she assured me, hanging up her traveling cloak and removing her mudded boots and gear. "You lost the 2014 Middle-earth March Madness finals."
"Oh, is that all?" I sighed in relief. "How tragic."
"You didn't ask who to," she reprimanded me with a grin.
"To whom," I corrected. "And why bother?" I asked, gutting another with a deft stroke. "When I know you'll only tell me anyways."
She perched on the counter-top, kicking her feet merrily. "Spoilersport. It's never any fun your way."
My father was the life of the party, not me. But I relented. "Kíli," I rolled my eyes.
"Nope," she grinned wider.
"It's never a dwarf," Gimli grumbled from the bathroom.
"Face it, Gimli," she called playfully. "Even your supposed 'hot dwarves' just don't make the cut."
"Of course they don't!" he stumped in, positively fuming. "No beards, no muscle, nary an ax in sight and gallons of hair products! Who do they think they are? Elves?"
"GIMLI—!"
[Note: the following description has been redacted to keep the rating T in compliance with the Fiction Ratings Guide.]
"…like I was saying," Tauriel continued in amusement once the scenery had again returned to a more family-friendly environment. "There's a reason Dwarves don't make the finals."
"Ha!" Gimli returned clothed, and this time in more than just hair. "I hear you didn't even make it past the third round, lass."
"And I hear you didn't even make the bracket," she leveled, one eyebrow cocked. "What, no witty comeback?"
By that time I'd finished the skinning, and set about butchering the rabbits for the stew. The broth was already over the fire, and the potatoes were simmering nicely.
"I heard you lost to Samwise Gamgee."
Oh, please, please, please don't start with 'Boil 'em, Mash 'em, Stick 'em In A Stew'…I begged of Elbereth. For once, my cry was heeded.
"So did Azog," she sniffed instead. "So as far as BADASS! characters included solely within the film franchise for the purposes of shitty screenplay, I'm in good company."
"Hmph," Gimli grumped.
"But why would you even want to win?" I asked them both. "From what I've seen the fandom is almost entirely unreliable when it comes to gauging anything." They'd gone out and gotten tickets to DoS like it was still 2002.
"Oh, Legolas, because," Tauriel said smugly. "It's a contest."
Oh, Valar save me. I'd simply walked into that like it was Mordor. "No, please—"
"To see—"
"Not again…"
"Once and for all—"
"Just stop," I begged her.
"Who's the Prettiest!" she sang as she pounced on me and pinched my cheeks.
Oh, Valar. I could already guess where this was going. "Let me guess…"
"'Bitch, please!'" she winked. "At least they know you get it from Ada."
I groaned and sat down, face in my hands, rueing the day that thrice-cursed trilogy had been green lit, and vowing right there and then that gingerhaze must pay for her crimes against Elf sanity. "My life is just one big, stupid meme," I whimpered.
"Well, this proves it then, lad." Gimli shrugged, clapping my back with his broad hand. "I suppose he is 'too sexy for my elk."
Team Sparkle, Thrandizzle, Randy Thrandy, Dwarf Racist Party King(some alternatives might include 'Dad' instead, but we both found the former description to be far more accurate as a true gauge of his fatherly duties), or whatever appellation you wanted to call him, had now been forever immortalized as a living meme incarnate.
…I suppose it served him right. Although I did get the horrible feeling I'd be cleansing Google's servers of the inevitable 'Sparklier than Edward Cullen' quotes to come.
"Wait, wait, wait," Tauriel snorted in a hapless giggle. "Who's your daddy?"
"I suppose this calls for a celebration," Gimli mused. "All aboard the party elk!"
"Are you quite done yet?" I seethed.
"One more, one more!" she wheedled, hiccoughing. "I mean, it's not like he can hear us over the sound of how fabulous he is!"
I sighed, and begrudgingly stood to stir the stew. "At least tell me this means I'm not 'Still the Prettiest' or something."
I was met with silence. For just a split-second too long.
Oh, Valar-damnit…
"Dawww," she cooed, flinging her toned arms around me from behind in a mock embrace. "Poor Legolas. Don't worry, you'll always be the prettiest to me!"
"TAURIEL, THE SHIPPERS—!"