Kili and Rhavaniel awoke hungry and thirsty, with a thick layer of dust and leaves on top of their bedroll.

The storm had passed, and the dawn sky appeared to be clear. They quickly gathered fallen branches to start a fire.

"We will roast the roots whole instead of boil them, to save water." Kili decided. "We will get off to a late start, but we should eat now. We may not have an opportunity later."

"And you will teach me to fight with sword?" Rhavaniel asked eagerly.

"Yes." Kili replied, "but first I must ask, have you been in many fights? By that I mean, have you hit another child, or been hit?"

"No, we all get along beautifully."

Kili shook his head in disbelief, "You are the only Avarin in a village of Silvan Elves, ruled by an inbred little pack of Sindar snobs, and you were never teased?"

"Of course I was teased. I am a short, tangle-haired child of the forge. They call me the Elf that Aulë built."

Kili was indignant, "And you never hit anyone for that insult?"

Rhavaniel laughed, "It was meant in good hearted jest. Can you tell me that description never crossed your mind when looking at me?"

Kili had to admit, Rhavaniel was the most Dwarf-like Elf he had met, but she was still mostly incomprehensible to him.

"When someone insults a Dwarf, they have enough sense to fight over it, so that they will not be insulted ever again." Kili informed her.

"Is fighting common among Dwarflings?" Rhavaniel asked. "Your people do seem rather...well... easily offended. Does that attitude start in childhood? Are girl Dwarves the same way?"

Kili had to admit, "Girl dwarves are worse, actually. They fight other girls. They fight boys, which is particularly unpleasant, because a boy will not hit a girl Dwarf back."

"Why would you not hit someone who hit you first?" Rhavaniel quizzed, "That seems impractical."

Kili simply stated, "It is a matter of honor. Boys do not hit girls."

Rhavaniel frowned, "I have noticed that Dwarf practicality disappears when the rules of honor become involved. Your rules of honor are so complex, though, I cannot follow them. It does not seem very honorable of a Dwarf girl to hit a boy when she knows he will not hit her in return."

And now Rhavaniel had insulted all Dwarf girls. Kili closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. 'She is trying to understand.' he told himself. Now that he thought on it, he may have asked a very similar question of his Uncle Thorin when he was a boy.

"We will discuss honor at a later date, " Kili promised. "Back to fighting. Fights in the schoolyard served me well. They toughened me. Taught me how to hit, and how to be unafraid of being hit in return. Elves should learn to fight early - to get their hands dirty. You have been sheltered."

"Did you fight much as a child?"

"Daily." Kili said proudly.

"Daily?! That seems rather orcish. And how often did your brother Fili fight in school?"

"Also daily, until I did well enough on my own that no one picked fights with me."

Rhavaniel furrowed her brow, "This expression, 'pick fight' - they let you carry your pick axes in school? Was your school in a mine?"

"No, no, no. Just... just make a fist and try to hit me." Kili snapped.

Rhavaniel hesitated, then complied. Kili easily caught her fist in his hand and held it. "You were slow, and your eyes told me exactly where your fist was going to go. Your opponent is much, much stronger than you are. He can block your blows. You have to use your speed. Now, see if you can get your hand back."

Rhavaniel pulled back as hard as she could, but could not free herself.

"If I had grabbed your sword hand, I would have run you through by now. Think." Kili calmly told her. He suddenly released her hand, and she fell backwards. "And stay on your feet."

"I would do better fighting in trees." Rhavaniel grumbled, getting up.

"I am sure you would, but you will rarely have the luxury of picking - I mean, selecting - the battleground. Try again."

Rhavaniel continued to try heartily. Kili taught her to feign blows, break grips, and duck below punches. It was tiring and bruising, but they continued until breakfast was ready. When they sat down to eat, Rhavaniel kept her eyes downcast.

Kili asked gently, "Are you angry with me?"

"No! I am very grateful to you. I did not know that I was so ill prepared to defend myself. I am angry at myself, I suppose."

Kili's tone was encouraging, "You did very well, actually. I am trying to concentrate years worth of experience in a few hours, so don't be hard on yourself. We will discuss sword fighting while we walk, and spar at mid-day."

"So...what were you supposed to do when a Dwarf girl hit you, since you could not hit her back? That seems terribly unfair."

"In truth, the girls never hit me, exactly. They would gang up on me, pin me down and kiss me because I had no beard on my cheeks. They thought it was funny."

Rhavaniel choked back a laugh. "Oh, I am sorry! I did not mean to ..."

"I can laugh about that part myself, now. My mother said I could not hit them, so I might as well kiss them back. I did not take her advice - I was too mortified. Fili was quite jealous, as I recall."

"What, your brother did not have the same problem at your age?"

"No," Kili told her. "Fili was always the perfect Dwarf. He had proper blond whiskers even as a baby. I looked different."

"I look different, too."

"Yes, but your kind of 'different' does not make people think you are weak."

"Oh, I did not mean to offend you."

"You did not. It is as I said, fighting made me strong. Either they were wrong about me from the start, or they were right about me but I fixed myself trying to prove them wrong."

"Those are very wise words. I had not thought of it before, but I realize I surrendered to my difference long ago. Maybe I should have fought it?"

"What do you mean?" Kili asked, "Your difference is not 'weak'. It is... 'rare' like a very precious jewel, if I had to chose a word for it. Why would you think to fight that?"

"Because 'alone' is the one word for my difference."