#drabbletastic

Sergeant Kili Durin enlisted in the British army in 1939 with the declaration of war following the invasion of Poland by Nazi Germany. Before joining up, he was in university working towards a degree in Literature with which he intended to become a teacher. Kissing his mother farewell and embracing his uncle Thorin, a veteran of the Great War, he set off to training camp with excitement and fear mingled in one. He enlisted alongside his brother, who had been designated for action in Italy, while he waited to help staunch the advance of German forces through Belgium and towards the French border.

You are a United States Army nurse sent to England in 1943 following the attack on Pearl Harbour and are undergoing your medical training alongside hundreds of other young women. Feeling called to duty though limited by the social bonds of your gender, you throw yourself into your work as you learn to apply bandages and apply IVs. Yet to be stationed in an active warzone among the fighting, your time is spent anxiously awaiting the day when you no longer tend to mannequin's and the feigned wounds of your fellow nurses.

While on a weekend pass, you leave the base to venture into town where many of the British soldiers have also been granted time off. Sneaking away from the purview of your superior, you and a few other nurses slip into a tavern which you were warned were explicitly off-limits for women of respectable standing in the Nurses' Corps. Forgoing the rules of etiquette, you order a pint of pale British beer but upon fishing around for the coins in your jacket, the clink of change hits the bar before you and a voice sounds in cheery tones.

"Keep it," The British lilt is careless despite the heavy times, "Hers is on me."

"Pardon me, Sergeant," You say eyeing the insignia upon his uniform, "My thanks but I can pay for myself."

"We don't get many ladies in here, especially such pretty ones. And American nonetheless, consider it a welcome gift from ours to yours," He smiles and you roll your eyes as he chuckles with amusement, "A beer is not an obligation. You're free to run along. You needn't waste your time chatting with a redcoat."

"Hmm," You squint at him dryly and slowly take the frothy glass in hand, "What kind of lady would I be if I did not at least spare a minute of my time? Not to mention, a rather poor ambassador for my country."

"A minute?" He echoes and grins even wider, "Well, I best make good use of the time. Sergeant Kili Durin, at your service."

With an unintended laugh on your part, you introduce yourself and find yourself with the man beyond the allotted minute. Despite your wariness of his slick talk, you find yourself enraptured by his charm and for the first, free of the fear which hung over you in a black cloud. He buys you another pint and you fail to leave before curfew with the rest of the girls, facing two weeks of latrine duty when you return to base, though your night was well worth the punishment.

Though you never chance to see him again on your weekends in town, you recall the special hours you spent with Sergeant Durin and the memory comforts you as you are sent to France following the D-Day invasions. There, you find yourself traveling constantly and tending to the many wounded allied soldiers; American, British, Canadian, Australian, and many more. As the Western forces advance, your corps follows their rearguard and you scour and scrimp for the supplies so needed to treat the wounded and dying.

In the Netherlands, your corps finally pauses for more than a day as an old church serves as a hospital for wounded soldiers transferred back from the frontlines. With your hands stained a dark shade of red and your hair tied back under sweaty cloth, a familiar voice sounds from a bed nearby while you check the dressings of a soldier.

"If only we could find a pint or two in such hard times," You secure the bandage as you look over the sleeping soldier to another sat up on his cot, his brown hair hanging in messy curls over a yellowed bandage, "What twist of fate is this?"

"Sergeant Durin?" You stand and near his cot, "I never..."

"Kili," He corrects you pointedly, "Surely you thought me dead, as I did," He grins despite his wounds though his eyes have changed, "You nurses certainly know what you're doing. The medic gave me several too many morhpine shots in the foxhole...I'm lucky I woke up, at least, they have told me so."

"Oh, Kili, what happened to you?" You sit on the edge of his cot and shift his bandage to see the damage.

"Shrapnel from a shell," He does not cease to smile and you blush as you find his eyes are fixed on you as you look closely at his stitches, "The lady who fixed me up says to keep it clean...and I think it's about time for new dressing."

"I'd say so too, but we haven't new dressing," You untie his bandage and hide the cringe at the gash which crosses his forehead and trails through his hairline, "But I might have something."

You stir around in your apron, filthy with blood, dirt, and soot. You pull forth a grey handkerchief you had found in the pocket of a dead man. It was grim but you needed all you could get. You rip a strip and set it around Kili's head, securing it snuggly and subconsciously running a finger down his temple, eliciting an unsuppressed purr from his lips.

"Do you wish we could go back?" He asks as his eyes catch yours, the deep chocolate of his irises warm in the chill of the church corridor, "War is never easy but since then...it has been worse than ever."

"I wish we could," You agree and drop you hand onto your lap, his own reaching over to settle atop it, "But war can never be undone."

"It cannot," He agrees and his thumb runs across yours, "But we can carry on...when this is over, I'll buy you a pint. I've never had American beer."

"If it ever ends," You say as you sigh greyly and look away, trying not to let the tears, which had rose so unexpectedly, fall.

"It will, I promise," Kili's voice drew your gaze back to him, "It has to, some day."

You chance a small smile, a gesture which has grown foreign and he returns it in kind. You remain on the edge of his cot as you sit together in mournful silence until you hear the stirring of a man in need. You rise and he reluctantly releases your hand.

"We will see each other again. I won't be going back with a head like this."