"Well, you never are." Elrond responded with amusement. The dwarves were eating, some content, others not. Ori was being picky, and Dori was scolding him as per usual. Kili wasn't fond of the overabundance of green food either, and he'd settled for amusing himself by becoming involved in a food fight.
Thorin didn't even bother reprehending his nephew. As a matter of fact, he nearly wanted Elrond to scold him so that he might have a reason for confrontation. 
Contrary to this, Elrond did not scold Kili, or any of the others. Instead, he was busying himself with inspecting the swords Gandalf had shown him. "This is Orcrist, the Goblin Cleaver. A famous blade, forged by the High Elves of the West, my kin. May it serve you well." He handed the weapon back to Thorin, who accepted it with a nod. 
"And this is Glamdring, the Foe­hammer, sword of the King of Gondolin." Elrond was only too glad to identify these blades for them. Each had a story and a reason for being made. "These swords were made for the goblin wars of the First Age..."

Bilbo was increasingly interested by this, then looked to his own sword. 
Balin smiled lightly as he followed their burglar's gaze, then spoke up. “I wouldn’t bother, laddie. Swords are named for the great deeds they do in war.”
Bilbo hesitated, then sheathed the blade once more. "What are you saying, my sword hasn’t seen battle?"
"I’m not actually sure it is a sword; more of a letter opener, really." If possible, Balin wished to save Bilbo the embarrassment.

Returning the sword to its rightful owner, Elrond looked to Gandalf. “How did you come by these?”

Kili burst out laughing as a bread roll hit Dwalin on the head, and Dwalin cursed at him (much to the shock of a few elves). 
This didn't seem to bother the youngest, though. Kili was rather immature sometimes, [i]especially[/i] if he was in the center of attention. 
"I can't say I fancy Elves myself, too thin." Kili made sure not to say so too loudly, but he said it all the same. "They're all high cheekbones and creamy skin. Not enough facial hair for me." At that, he winked at one of the elves near the back. "Although, that one there's not bad." Again, he wanted attention for being so bold.
Dwalin raised an eyebrow, then looked to the elf Kili had referenced. "That's not an elf maid."
Everyone burst out laughing at his foolishness, and Kili wished he could have sunk into the floor. Being the center of attention wasn't always a good thing.

Embarrassed, Kili grumbled that he wished to find where they kept the mead. Once he made a hasty retreat, he started to walk around the courtyard some, then he took notice that Saeril was observing the group rather than join them. 
Unlike before, she was clad in a brown dress and her hair was down. Contrary to his former claims that he did not fancy elves, Kili believed his godmother to be the fairest one there. She had a goodness about her, a motherly sort of charm that he'd felt only from Dis. 
Kili stepped up alongside of her, and he was thankful for the balcony's ledge. By leaning on it, he could add a bit of height to his too-short frame. "Why aren't you joining us?"