Fíli was determined to be the best fighter there ever was. At six years old these were big, but not impossible, dreams. And the only way to accomplish this was with practice.

"Practice," his mother told him many times, "is how we make things perfect...or as close as we can get." She would impart this encouragement to Fíli as he scribbled his runes. Learning to write was dull and not very important, Fíli thought. Being a great warrior was much more exciting. So he would have to practice. But how?

There were no children his age or size nearby to spar with. That only left...Kíli! Sure, he was a baby and couldn't do much beside crawl and cry and babble words that didn't make sense. But if anyone could teach him to play, it was Fíli.

Fíli bounded into the nursery and poked his head over the cradle."Kíli, my favorite little brother! Would you like to help train me?"

Kíli, who was slobbering on his balled up fists, cocked his dark head to the side.

"Feeee! Feeeeeee!"

"That means yes," Fíli decided. It also meant "Fíli" and "No" and "hungry," probably. A very eager big brother lifted the baby out of his bed and carried him into his room.

"Broooobahbah," Kíli cooed.

"I'm not sure what that means," Fíli responded, "but here." He handed Kíli a wooden sword, the smallest one he possessed (and Fíli had amassed quite a collection of toy weapons so far).

Kíli's fat little fingers could barely grip it. "Hold it like this," Fíli demonstrated. But Kíli only stared back, his brown eyes wide with wonder.

"See? Look." Fíli curled Kíli's hand around the hilt but he kept releasing his grip around it.

"Come on, Kíli, it's not that hard!"

"Mmmmm nnhhhmm," Kíli squirmed. He sunk his mouth down on the wood, leaving a small stream of spit trailing down.

"Ewww, you're not supposed to EAT it!"

Kíli was probably not the best sparring partner but Fíli was not going to give up. He had an idea - a brilliant one.

"Stay here," he ordered, as Kíli happily chomped away on the sword.

His mother was in the kitchen, but she didn't think anything of Fíli pulling a jar off the shelf. It didn't raise too much suspicion.

"What are you doing, dear?"

"I just want something to eat," he fibbed.

"Alright, but not too much. You don't want to spoil your supper."

"I won't, Mama."

"Feeeeee!" Kíli gurgled with merriment when his brother returned.

Fíli removed the lid off the honey jar. It was nice and sticky - this would work. He dunked the sword into the jar, then affixed it to Kíli's hand.

"Gahhhhbbbbb!"

It seemed to do the trick. Kíli was now wielding the weapon with the help of a little honey and Fíli's quick thinking.

"Great! Now we can start!" Fíli raised his own sword, ready to hone his skills and become the greatest dwarf fighter in Middle Earth.

"No, Kíli!"

Kíli discovered the honey, oh did he ever. Now his other hand was stuck on the sword as he reached his mouth over to the sticky mess.

"Goooooggbahhhh!" He squealed, the honey smearing all over his face. In his excitement, he knocked over the jar, sending a slow ooze of gold spreading across the floor.

"Nooo! Stop!"

But little Kíli had rolled backwards, right into the gooey puddle. His squeals of delight, and Fíli's protests, were making quite the racket.

"What in the world?" Their father stood in the doorway. His eyes darted back and forth between the both of them.

"Please don't be angry! I was only trying to play swords with Kíli."

"I'm not angry! This is the funniest thing I've seen, well, since yesterday!"

How could Fíli have already forgotten the mischief from yesterday? There was still mud splatters on the wall from it.

"Dís, come here. Look at what our boys did." He doubled over in laughter, trying to catch his breath.

"What now? I thought they were playing nicely."

"Oh, they were. But..."

"Fíli, why is that sword stuck to your brother, and why is there - my honey!"She rushed over and picked up Kíli, who was rolling around like a piglet in a mudpit.

Dís sighed and shook her head."I give up with all of you...children," she glared at her husband. Annoyed as she was, she couldn't help but laugh. In fact, they were all laughing except Fíli.

"Am...am I in trouble?" He bowed his blond head down, expecting the worse. "I just want to be a really good fighter, that's all. It was Kíli's fault, he doesn't listen."

"Now Fíli, there will be plenty of time to play when he's older," his father reassured him. "But until then, you're going to have to settle for sparring with me."

"Really!?"

"Of course, son. We can start right now-"

"After this is cleaned up," Dís interrupted.

Fíli and his father both groaned, staring at the mess around them. But the prospect of actual sword lessons brightened Fíli's spirits.

"Then you can fight until your heart's content. Now I need to give Kíli a bath," Dís announced as she pulled at the globs of honey in his hair.

"Feeeeeeee!"

He would probably love a bath, too. Everything was fun when you were a baby - and to Kíli, especially.

Sometimes things didn't go according to Fíli's plans. Sometimes they went better than expected.