Kili's grin only widens at those antics, the posing, the poetry, everything. For a second, the arena seems far away, the threat of death a distant haze of a dream. Until Hawkeye mentions the arena by name and no, it's not been a dream at all. This is real, those screams he'd heard had been real, the threat Willow and Hawkeye both had thought he posed. They expected them to kill each other, to rend limb from body and extinguish the flames of life. It's enough to make him want to focus on the colorful dioramas, the strange clothing, everything Hawkeye's telling him.

"Not any history book I've ever seen," he raises his eyebrows at Hawkeye, his voice heavier with the knowledge that someone out there was probably being sliced open or gutted while they were standing around talking. Despite his words, though, Kili is certainly dressed to kill, and looks comfortable enough in what would be heavy armor to anyone who had never worn it before.

"They don't even have any dwarves." Kili looks back at Hawkeye, shaking his head. "Or dragons. Or elves, even. If it's a history book, it's not a very good one."