"Kili Móinson!"

The lad jumped as though struck when Master Nýrád's staff came down on his desk, and he eyed the elderly Dwarf warily. "Yes, Master," he said respectfully, a trifle nervous. It was his first year under Master Nýrád's tutelage, since his father Móin had died. "I am sorry, I will attend."

"You had better," Nýrád growled. "You are a prince, lad, and you will conduct yourself like one, exiled or no. By Durin's Beard, I'll have no woolgathering from my pupils. Am I quite understood?"

"Yes, Master," was the dutiful response. Then he realised he couldn't remember what his task had been, and as the tutor strode away, he turned to Fili, eyes round. His older brother merely rolled his eyes.

"Four things we want Mahal to bring us for Yule," he prompted in a whisper, and Kili blushed, nodding.

He began to scribble eagerly on his paper.

For Yule, I would like these four things:

1. A sword

2. A shield

3. Armor like Papa's

4. 

Kili paused, and frowned. He didn't really want much; he was a very well provided for dwarfling, between Uncle Thorin, Mama and the myriad cousins. He wasn't spoiled, and he was sensible; it wasn't right to ask Mahal to give him back Papa. Still, he couldn't help a bit of longing creeping in and, unable to think of anything else, wrote

4. A little brother so I'm not the littlest anymore

When he handed in the list to Master Nýrád, the tutor read it, grunted and dismissed him. Fili would stay longer, as he was the Heir and had harder lessons to learn - so far, Kili only went half-days. He trotted down the corridor toward his Mam's rooms, connected now to Uncle Thorin's, and daydreamed about a little brother.

 Surprisingly, the nearer he got to the royal residence, the thicker with dwarf-women the hall became, and Kili had to edge past many matrons bustling to and fro with baskets and barrels of this and that. Food, linens, medicines...was someone ill? Had Uncle Thorin taken ill? The minute the crowd thinned, he began to run, and he ran straight into Uncle Óin, who was really Kili's third cousin once removed. The older Dwarf put a hand up. "Watch yourself, lad."

"Sorry, Uncle," Kili said apologetically. "What's all the fuss? Is someone ill?" 

"Freja's not feeling her best, lad, but don't you fret; she'll be up and about soon enough." Óin shook his head. "There's nothing gone wrong time won't cure."

Kili's eyes widened. Aunt Freja! His cousin Glóin's wife, and really his aunt too, for she was his Papa's sister. "Are you sure Aunt Freja will be all right?"

"She'll be fine, lad. She's going to have a baby, is all." Glóin himself uttered this assurance, smiling under his beard. 

Kili ran to hug him. "Uncle Glóin! Is there really going to be a baby?"

"Really, truly, lad. You shan't be the youngest any more, after that." Glóin chuckled as Kili cheered. 

A cousin might not be the same as a brother, but it was close.

The End