#blacksmithingandcrowns

Korea   -----

Task Force  the damned 306th

Time early Morning.

" Captain! we got artillery heading our way, and half the task force is either dead or dying sir what do we do!"  Corporal Sanders yelled as he ducked behind the same cover as his leader.    " Corporal, hold it together! Tex called for evact  a while ago, just hang on lad!"  Bullets make their rat-a-tat here and there the building they took cover in was a giant target for the oncoming tank.   The Corporal stood up,   " Captain I hear the choppers!" a bullet pierced his chest plate sending him to the ground.     Captain Dwalin pick up a rocket luancher shotting and destroying the tank and he picked up the corporal and drapped him over his shoulders,   " Stay with me Tucker!" he yelled as he lept from the back window to another building, it was a bad mistake but the only escape. The building he was now on was aflame.  A sound of a gunner Helicopter filling the air, dwalin began to run the man on his shoulders just passed but Dwalin was not going to leave his body on this damned battlefield.  The gun on the choppter began to fire bullets destorying the ground around Dwalin and a whistle filled the air as a mortor struck donw on the building the task force Captain was on.

last Know letter sent from Dwalin to Thorin.

" Life around the base is alive we just got word that the FNG* is a father back home.  The government has also officially named us the damned 306th or the walking dead.   Is my Brother well? I hate saying it but I miss the crabby know it all sometimes. Funny I can use that to describe you both.

~Captain Dwalin

Thread based off this piece by kaciart.

It’s always during the darkest hours of the night when men are at their most vulnerable, enveloped in a shroud of sleep, when the evilest of deeds are done. That is when political assassins come in through the rafters and sink their blades deep into the flesh of the unwitting victim. It was during these hours when the dark things awaken from their slumber and roam the land, plying their wicked trade upon souls undeserving.

Kíli could feel the creeping of the night across his skin as he sat on his bed, stroking his bow with tender hands. Something did not sit well with him and the prince could not relax for there was a great weight whirling in his chest, keeping him alert and uneasy. In the bed next to his there lay his brother, still and quiet except for the gentle rise and fall under the sheets; oh how the archer wished he too could be lost in that trusting state.

Just a few moments more passed before a rattled and heavy sigh escaped his lips; that’s when the prince decided the time had come and he gently removed himself from the warm, soft bed that had once been so welcoming to him. Now it felt cold and hard, as if it had been frozen just like his heart. Kíli adorned his quiver and bow before crouching down to retrieve the wicked knife hidden within a hole in the wall.

Taking one final breath, the bowman opened the door of his room and plunged into darkness. The hallways were opaque and the air was unbearably thick forcing him to fight to keep his breathing steady and even as he crept through the halls on silent feet. Though much to his disappear, the corridors were not so quiet; voices of the guards from far off in the distanced echoed through the stone as if Erebor itself believed it urgent he hear their words.

“It’s all falling apart. We just got it back and already it’s melting, slipping away through our fingers.”

“True but don’t let no one catch you talking that way or there’ll be a mighty price to pay.”

Kíli’s steps had faltered for a moment as their voices vibrated through his mind; he lowered his head and leaned against the smooth wall, fighting back a fit of tears that that threatened his resolve.

The prince gave himself a moment to regain his composure and remind himself of all the bad that had come to pass and all the horrors that might yet come if action was not taken this night. 

Another deep breath and the prince was moving again, his head still low but his heart pounding faster... 

...another deep breath and the prince was at the door, pushing it open with a child’s trepidation...

...another deep breath and the prince was unsheathing the knife in one smooth motion...

...another deep breath and the prince was crying in silence as his legs found the strength to continue forward...

...another deep breath and the prince standing over the bed, knife raised over head...