So this is just an idea that came to me during a very boring lecture on Monday, it wouldn't go away so I thought I'd write it up and post it here. I haven't posted anything before, so if I've done something wrong in how I've posted this, do tell me, but be nice to me! :p
I don't own anything obviously, it all belongs to the great JRR Tolkien.
"Papa," a small voice squeaked excitedly at his elbow, startling Fíli from his reverie. The voice was that of a small dwarfling, who laughed excitedly as Fíli swung him into the air before hugging him tightly, ruffling the blonde hair that was so like Fíli's own.
"Don't tell Mister Balin where I is" the child told him trying to whisper seriously, but quite obviously finding the situation enormously entertaining, as he kept giggling to himself, clearly proud of whatever he had done.
"And why would this be?" Fíli asked smiling, pretending to stand up as though to go to find Balin that very minute.
"Nooooooooooo, you can't tell him cause I hiding" the dwarfling told him, brown eyes widening in shock as he spoke, in the manner of one confiding a great secret.
"Lessons is boring" he declared, pulling a tortured grimace to make his feelings quite clear. "I sposed to be learning about the line of Durin, well Balin tried to teach me but I got confused cause loads of them have the same names which is silly, so I ran away while he wasn't looking," he explained all in one breath, jumbling his words together. Fíli smirked at this, he remembered another young dwarfling who would behave in a similar way when faced with a history lesson.
"Aye, little one," he replied. "It is a tradition of the line of Durin, our sons are often named to honour their fallen ancestors." The child furrowed his brow in confusion at this, perhaps he regretted calling an ancient dwarven tradition 'silly'. At length, he spoke again, but slowly, as if his next question had required much thought.
"Is that where my name is from Papa?" Fíli's smile dropped. He had always known that one day he would have to answer this question.
"Yes" he replied quietly, a whole wealth of memories threatening to overwhelm him. His throat constricted painfully, voice nearly cracking on that single syllable. Yet the dwarfling did not seem to see his father's distress, rather he looked excited, hoping to hear a tale of the great warrior hero who was his namesake. He spoke again.
"Papa, who was Kíli?"