Author's Note:Welcome to Kinseekers! This is story 3, following Erebor 3022: Cursebearers (1) and Erebor, 3022: Ravenspeakers (2).* These stories are following the course of a single year from one Durin's Day to the next...and beyond. Rough timeline: Durin's Day = December; Ravenspeakers = Jan/Feb; Kinseekers = this work can stand alone, but I invite you to the first two stories as well! All feedback welcome, even if you're coming late to the story. A quick review or a PM will do!

Note: I posted this story originally on 2-18-14 (omg 10 years ago!). Removed it for awhile...and now I'm reposting one chapter per weekend until it's 100% back.

Chapter One

"We have letters back from the envoy to Minas Tirith," Fili reported as he sat himself down in one of the new wood and leather chairs, right next to his brother.

Kili, already comfortably stretched out with his booted feet on a footrest, raised his eyebrows. "And? They accepted the treaty?"

"They did," Fili answered. He was admiring the view of the sunset over the lake. The chairs faced the newly discovered wall of windows in the great room of the royal family's quarters, and from here they could see a broad view down the mountain to the long lake.

"Good to know," Kili smiled, glad to see his brother sinking into the plump cushions and relaxing. Sitting here together at the end of their busy days had become a new tradition. For the last two months they had been fascinated with watching the view change with the seasons. There were already signs of spring flowers down at lake level.

Lady Nÿr, healer trainee and Kili's intended, brought mugs of hot tea—the blackleaf variety they all liked to drink in the afternoons. Her days were as busy as theirs, but in the infirmary.

Kili took the mug she handed him and when their eyes met, his brows drew together.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

Nÿr handed the second mug to Fili, who looked up, his expression concerned.

"I wondered if I might have a word," she said carefully. "With you both, I mean."

"Speak your mind," Kili said.

"It's about your cousin, Dwalin," she said. "His health." She pushed her single, long black braid off her shoulder.

"Dwalin's a tough old guy," Kili shrugged.

"Getting pretty old," Fili agreed. "Just age."

Nÿr looked at her hands. "You're right, of course. But…there's something more. The master physician and I paid him a visit this morning."

Both brothers looked concerned now.

"He's quite ill, Kili," she said, meeting her intended's eyes, feeling sorry to be delivering this news. "It's a wasting disease. A mass near his kidneys." She touched her own stomach to show. "He's reached the stage where his time may not be much longer."

She regretted bearing the news. Both brothers looked shocked.

"How long?" Fili managed, his voice husky.

Nÿr shook her head. "Maybe two months. No more." She looked at Kili. "I wanted to ask you if we could move him here," she held a hand out to the light filled rooms. "It would be easier to care for him, and he could see outside..."

"Sure. Yes. Whatever you want," Kili said, eyes wide. She reached out and their hands met. Kili could see unshed tears welling in her eyes when she let go and left.

The brothers were silent. The old dwarf was the closest living elder they had, and he was a venerable hero to the people of Erebor, many times over.

In Kili's mind, losing Dwalin would be like losing their uncle, Thorin Oakenshield, all over again.

Nÿr excused herself, leaving her intended and his brother to themselves. She regretted delivering the bad news, but it was part of a healer's job. She and the master physician had been discussing this all day…how to tell them. They had settled on it being Nÿr's task.

"You are nearly ready for your physician's exams," he'd said to her. "And guiding our people through the change of death is as important as healing their injuries. It is quite a lucky thing to die of old age, after all." He reminded her of old Boru, her long dead first teacher when he spoke that way.

But Nÿr took a moment to press her hands to her eyes and calm her feelings. At least she had managed to tell Kili and his brother together. They were, as Lady An had once told her, the heart and soul of the mountain. As long as they were together, they would meet the challenges of life as one.

Two days later, Kili called for the assistants and pages to leave, clearing the council chamber. Then, with only the seven councilors present in their weekly meeting, Fili introduced the idea that it was time for a new plan regarding the defense of Erebor.

"It's time we changed things around," Kili said. "Erebor was full of visitors for the negotiations back on Durin's Day. Too many people took note of our troop strengths, our duty schedules and our security routines. The truth is we're not fighting ranks of orcs and goblins out in the open anymore, but we still have enemies. The plot by the Slagheads and the Kolozh goblins proves it. We need fresh tactics."

"Kili's right," Fili spoke up. "From now on, our enemies are more likely to be spies or opportunists than armies."

"So we regroup and present unexpected conditions," Dwalin summed up. "Good thinking," he nodded to Kili.

"Yes. What's the plan?" Gloin asked, his expression showing his eagerness for a new challenge.

"First, I'm completely reorganizing the guard into new regiments with new commanders, including the King's Guard," Fili stated.

Eyebrows raised but no one objected.

"And I'm reassigning Kili to Dwalin. We'll call him the Weaponsmaster, but the reality is he's still the next in line for a few more years. He needs to stay current with my duties and the workings of the court. It's his job to stand-in when I'm not here."

No one else at the table was fooled, however. Old Dwalin was more frail by the day, it seemed. While no one said it, they could all see that he was unwell. Kili would be his replacement as the Training Commander.

"It's time we trained Fjalar in earnest, and I trust my brother and my own teacher to oversee it," Fili said. No one was fooled by that, either. They understood their King's anger over the recent kidnapping of his heir. Fjalar had been lucky to come out of it relatively unscathed. The lad was still young, but they all agreed it was time he learned to defend himself like a proper warrior.

"The only thing we aren't reorganizing is the oversight of the treasury," Fili nodded to Gloin. "I think the security there has been sufficiently secret to keep it unchanged. We've looked at the Slaghead plan and all agree that the gold they were smuggling came from private hands, not from the Treasury."

Everyone nodded.

The biggest secret of the treasury, however, was that it was hidden away from anyone with a drop of Durin's blood in their veins. It had been Fili's idea on the day he had been crowned. The gold was sealed in separate vaults, spread around the mountain. The vaults were guarded and managed by three separate teams who verified contents and controlled access, serving as checks and balances against each other...with oversight from (of all dwarves) Bombur: he one of Thorin's original company, had no Durin lineage in his blood, and was a dwarf singularly uninterested in gold and precious metals (preferring of course, comfort, food, and ales.)

It was the only way, Fili had said, to stop the dragon-sickness cycle of madness.

Fili had no intention of succumbing the way his uncle had.

Kili agreed. The council affirmed it. Old Balin himself had been in favor.

And it worked.

The new security plan included the reassignment of Kili's young archer cadet, Skirfir.

Kili had the pleasure of calling the lad in to his new ready room in the training complex.

"I'm hand picking a few lads for a special assignment, Skirf," he said. "High security. It will take you away from your mates in the Guard, though. If you don't think you're interested, tell me now before you learn anything you shouldn't know."

"A…special assignment?" Skirfir blinked, considered, and stood taller. "Count me in, sir."

Kili smiled. "Good lad. Old Dwalin isn't just old," he began. "He's ill. Nÿr thinks he may have a couple months, no more." Kili tried to keep his feelings at bay. It was hard to watch his old teacher and friend fading like this.

"We're taking care of him," he said, quietly. In fact, they'd already moved him into the Annex, where he was surrounded by the rooms his own brother had renovated and where he could be taken out to sit in the sun and see the sky.

Nÿr was with him nearly all the time now.

"After this trouble with the Slagheads, we're also making changes in command assignments," he said. "We need to make ourselves unpredictable to them."

Skirfir looked stunned. "You're not giving up your command…?"

Kili smiled. "Just trading. Publically, Dwalin's still the Weaponsmaster," he said. "Privately, I'm taking most of his duties, including the trainees."

Skirfir looked surprised but said nothing.

"And here's where you come in. It's time to train Fjalar in earnest, Skirf. When Fili and I trained, we trained together. But the age difference between Fjalar and Gunnar is too much. And, to be honest, Fjalar will need mentors who are wiser and stronger than he is for a good long while." He nodded to Skirf.

Skirfir's eyes went wide. "My lord…?"

"Fili and I are in agreement about this, Skirfir. Fjalar already likes you and trusts you. We've seen you together—and I think you would not dislike spending time with him."

"I…" the lad looked shocked. "I'm just metalsmith stock. Hardly the kind of…"

Kili held up a hand. "You went to Dale with me. Who'd I take? You, the Hill Brothers, and Bofur."

Skirfir nodded.

"Bofur: oddball miner to his core. He's gotten me out of more trouble over the years than I could tell you." He smiled. "It's not about bloodlines in battle, Skirf. It's about brains and guts. You have them both. But I won't force you to this assignment. Accept it because you really want to. There's no dishonor in telling me if it's not for you. I can respect that."

Skirfir frowned a moment. "I didn't have to think twice when I saw him about to get hit by a goblin," Skirfir said in a firm voice.

Kili knew this. A month back, Skirf had stepped between his prince and a kolozh goblin warrior, taking the hit to protect the younger lad.

"And I don't need to think twice now."

Kili smiled. He knew he had not misjudged the lad. He reached out and offered his hand.

Shyly, Skirfir grasped it in the traditional warrior's welcome.

"Cadet Skirfir, I am pleased to promote you to the rank of Lieutenant of the Prince's Guard."

"Mahal," the lad breathed. "Yes, sir!"

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Thanks for reading! All feedback welcome... Hand on heart to you! - Summer