Inspired by Ochtendgloren's drawing on tumblr of Lindir entertaining Kili and Fili in Rivendell.
"I'm bored," Kili scratches the back of his neck with a celery stick leftover from dinner, "Hobbits are pleasant, men are bearable, wizards entertaining, and trolls nasty, but elves," he uses the celery to clean an ear, "are boring."
Fili merely smiles and continues walking, ignoring the lamentations of his younger brother. The two stroll along one of the many open air promenades, in search of a decent place to sit and smoke.
"Can you believe they took away all our furniture?" Kili questions scornfully while cleaning out his other ear, "All because their chairs were too delicate to handle Bombur. Worse than Bilbo, they are."
"I believe," Fili replies calmly, eyes merry, "They most objected to our use of carved table legs for firewood."
"Still," Kili says, "as hosts, it's their responsibility to provide wood. We were cold. It's only right."
They turn a corner and discover a quiet alcove, with a bench, and not too riddled with Elven architectural filigree. Fili promptly sits down and lights his pipe. Still restless, Kili paces. He picks the celery stick out of his ear, sniffs it, bites the end off, and chews it for a few seconds before regretting the decision, stumbles toward the balcony railing, collapses over it, and projectile spits the offensive vegetable out as fast as possible.
"Blergh," he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He glances down in the courtyard below. His eyes widen and he turns and squats to hide behind the railing. Without questioning, Fili bends down, a hand on a knee to keep his head out of sight. He stares at Kili, one eye slightly narrowed.
"It landed in a blonde elf's hair," Kili whispers.
Fili raises an eyebrow.
"Perhaps it'll blend in and he won't notice," Kili adds, peeking between the wooden slats to check.
"Celery," Fili comments, "is green."
"Not anymore, it isn't," Kili shakes his head.
Fili takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, letting the smoke blow lightly into his face. Kili sighs and sprawls on the ground, his legs sticking straight out and his back up against the railing.
"I'm bored," he moans again, "Hey! I know," he sits up and leans against a knee, "We can fit Bilbo's song to the elves…"
"Kili, not again," Fili says, "How many times must I explain, we never sing…"
"…the same song twice," Kili crosses his arms and slumps down again, "Except for the Misty Mountain song."
Fili takes another deep breath.
Kili looks up at his brother, looks down at the remains of his celery stick, and looks up at his brother again. He starts to drum a beat on the stone. Fili gives him a stern warning stare.
"Blunt the knives, bend the forks…." Kili starts to sing.
"What in Valinor do you think you're doing?" a shocked and thoroughly affronted voice demands.
The brothers turn guiltily to face the interruption.
"Singing," Kili says defensively. He scrambles to his feet, tugging the ends of his tunic crooked in an attempt to appear more presentable. The remaining celery stick gets chucked behind his back. Somewhere below an elf swears in a most unelven-like fashion.
"Smoking," Fili says simultaneously, sitting straight and tall to assess the intruder.
Lindir bristles, "That was not," he turns up his nose and clears his throat, "singing."
"Let's hear you do better then," Kili says, leaning haughtily against the rail and crossing his arms once more.
"It just so happens," Linder says with a smile, "I'm carrying my lute." he swings his hands around from behind his body and reveals an instrument.
"Doesn't look like much loot," Kili scoffs, "How did you manage to hide that behind your boney bu…"
"Kili," Fili says quietly.
"…back?" Kili finishes.
Linder ignores the dwarves and begins to play. He picks a livelier song than the one chosen at dinner. A tune with playful lyrics, and a strong sense of humor. Fili puffs on his pipe with upturned lips. Kili's stance relaxes a bit, one arm falling gently against his side. He smiles, and nods his head to the strum of Linder's instrument.
When he finishes, Linder lets the last plucked string fall still and steps back, arm outstretched. Kili and Fili burst into a generous dwarven applause, accompanied by a hoot, or holler, or two.
The beatifying smile on Linder's face slowly slides flat.
"Thank you," he says, giving a tiny bow. His manner returns to being a stuffed rabbit in a display case. If the stuffed rabbit were pretty, and dainty, and incredibly unfond of anything outside it's glass walls. Linder clasps the lute behind his back once more, rolls his spine straight, and, head held high, turns on his heel, and walks off.
Kili and Fili make eye contact and try to smother laughter.
"Maybe not so boring after all," Kili decides, "Maybe." He observes the other elves casually strolling along the promenade. Suddenly his eyes widen for a second time, his gaze locking onto a certain elf storming across the stone tile. The elf's fist clutches a bit of green and a wad of booger colored mystery goo clings to his golden hair. His face is more expressive than most elves allow.
"Fili…" Kili chokes.
Fili pockets his pipe, grabs Kili's upper arm, and the dwarves skedaddle in the opposite direction.