Hello again!
The events of this fic occur after All Will Be Well. Kíli, at some point in the not-too-distant future, will be going to the elf kingdoms of Middle Earth to negotiate with the elf lords, hence the Sindarin lessons.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Hobbit.
Kíli's pronunciation of Sindarin, Tauriel quickly found out, was absolutely horrendous.
"May el-oven-en," he stated, frowning. Tauriel winced.
"Mae l'ovannen, my love. It means-"
"'Well met,' I know," Kíli replied, his frown deepening. "I just can't seem to make it sound right."
"I'm sure you'll master it," Tauriel countered. "Shall we practice something else? How do you say thank you?"
"Luh han-on." The look on Kíli's face made it fairly clear that even he knew his pronunciation was wrong.
"Le hannon," Tauriel corrected gently.
"Your language is so lilting," Kíli complained. "Khuzdul isn't like that. Nor is Westron. I don't think my tongue is made to do lilting languages."
"You mustn't give up," Tauriel urged. "I'm certain you can manage it if you try."
"I am trying!" Kíli protested, but he dutifully attempted it again anyway. "Leh han-ohn."
"Much closer!" Tauriel praised. "How do you ask for forgiveness?"
"Goo-hen-oo neen," Kíli replied. His brow furrowed. "Wait, no. It's nin, not neen."
"Goheno nin," Tauriel stated. "The sound is oh, not oo."
"Oh," Kíli replied, winking mischievously. Tauriel laughed.
"And how do you bid someone farewell?" she asked.
"Noh-vah-er."
"Novaer," Tauriel corrected. "But you're getting much closer. At least you know the translations. Would your recognize the words if I said them?"
"Try," Kíli replied, nodding firmly.
"Le hannon," Tauriel stated.
"Thank you."
"Mae l'ovannen."
"Well met."
"Novaer."
"Farewell."
"Goheno nin."
"Forgive me."
"Very well done," Tauriel complimented, smiling. Kíli flopped down across his bed.
"I'll never be able to pronounce your language properly," he moaned. "My tongue feels like lead when I try. I am too close to stone, and you are too close to water. I cannot move my mouth in such a liquid way."
"You will manage it, I'm sure," Tauriel replied, lying down next to Kíli and propping herself up on her side. "We will not leave for the elf kingdoms until the weather grows mild. We still have months before that happens."
"Thranduil will wish for me to speak to him in fluent Sindarin, I'm sure," Kíli grumbled. Tauriel laughed.
"While he may, even he would know that to be unreasonable. And I'm sure Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, and Lord Celeborn will all appreciate the effort you put into your lessons, whether or not you end up with perfect pronunciation."
"I don't want them to think me a fool," Kíli countered. Tauriel shook her head.
"They won't," she promised. After a moment, she reconsidered. "Well, perhaps King Thranduil may, but he would think you one even if your Sindarin were flawless. You really needn't worry."
"I wish I could teach you Khuzdul," Kíli sighed. "I imagine it would sound lovely coming from your mouth, as everything does." Tauriel forced herself not to blush. "But the language is sacred, only to be spoken among dwarrows. In truth, you should not even know it exists."
"I will tell no one that I do," Tauriel promised.
"And yet Sindarin is not like that," Kíli added. "You elves can be so secretive, but your language is open to all."
"Why would it not be?" Tauriel countered. "I must admit, I do not understand why Khuzdul is so private. Language is meant to be spoken, to be shared. It makes little sense to me for it to be a secret."
"Other than elves, are there many who speak Sindarin?" Kíli asked. Tauriel shook her head.
"No. There was a time when many Men knew it, but that was when a king still ruled in Gondor. There is nothing to stop anyone from learning Sindarin if they so wish, but there are not many who do."
"It is a lovely language," Kíli offered. Tauriel closed her eyes.
"Sindarin is lovely, yes, but there are many who say Quenya is even more beautiful. I do not speak it fluently. I know naught but short phrases."
"Tell me?" Kíli asked. Tauriel felt the bed shift under her and knew that Kíli was propping himself up to look at her.
"Auta i lóme," Tauriel murmured, the words rolling off her tongue. "Utúlie'n aurë."
"What does it mean?" Kíli asked quietly.
"The night is passing," Tauriel translated. "The day has come."
"It is beautiful," Kíli sighed. "Although I may well be biased, as I believe every sound that leaves your lips is beautiful."
Tauriel opened her eyes, smiling at Kíli. "You flatter me."
"I speak but the truth!" Kíli protested, a wide grin on his face. "There is such loveliness to your mouth. I doubt you could speak anything uncouth."
"You'd be surprised," Tauriel murmured. Kíli's eyes sparkled.
"I'd like to be," he replied. Tauriel laughed.
"Shall we speak more Sindarin?" she asked. Kíli groaned.
"Must we? I find it so hard to shape the words around my tongue. If you wish to speak it, I will listen gladly, but I cannot do the sounds justice myself."
"And how will you ever learn if you don't practice?" Tauriel countered. Kíli shot her a decidedly dirty look.
"I have no need for another tutor," he told her dryly. "If I wished for that, I would take these lessons from my mother."
"I do not believe Lady Dís speaks Sindarin," Tauriel countered. Kíli sighed.
"That's not the point," he groaned. "You are my beloved Tauriel, my beautiful, mischievous love, and you're supposed to help me get out of lessons such as this, not force me to do even more."
"I apologize," Tauriel replied, feeling her lips twitch into a smirk. "I was unaware of that rule."
"Well, now you know," Kíli replied, nodding. "What have you to say for yourself?"
"Nothing, I suppose," Tauriel replied. She smiled slightly. "Except that you would do better at Sindarin if you spoke it more often-"
"Traitor!" Kíli cried dramatically, prompting Tauriel to laugh. "I thought our love was true! How could you do this to me?"
"Have you ever considered being a bit less dramatic?" Tauriel asked. The look Kíli gave her was highly offended.
"No. Of course not. Why on earth would I?"
"You are entirely ridiculous," Tauriel stated fondly. Kíli grinned.
"And in that lies my charm," he replied. "Now, what would you like to do? Other than practice Sindarin?"
Tauriel smiled at Kíli. "So long as we are together, I will be happy to do whatever you wish," she replied. Kíli chuckled.
"Would you like to know something ironic?" he asked. Tauriel waved a hand.
"Go ahead."
Kíli pressed a kiss to her lips. "I feel quite the same."
Sindarin is the most common language of the elves, the one spoken in the movies. I don't speak it, so my grasp on its pronunciation isn't perfect, but I do know that Kíli's pronunciations are incorrect.
Quenya is another, more formal elf language. The phrases Tauriel speaks are from Tolkien's book The Children of Húrin.