Hi!

This story, in all its 300,000 word+ epic glory, is now finished!

For any new-comers to this fic, I initially had this on the site a few years ago but it was unfortunately pulled - to this day, I don't know why completely. As I didn't have the story on my PC then I never continued, but a very kind soul send it to me and I re-wrote it. It morphed, changed, and took over my life for a wonderful crazy year.

I hope you enjoy it. This isn't a very serious story, but it is mostly book-verse rather than movie-verse so bear that in mind. It isn't 10th walker per se, but is based around 5 main and a variety of not-quite-so-main OC's at the time of the War of The Ring. Please don't be scared off by this - I like to think they're well rounded, interesting individuals with stories all of their own.

As always at the start of a new story, I don't own any of this beautiful world, but I do like to play with it. I make absolutely nothing from it except the warm and fuzzies!

Lots of love,
MM -x

"Benny, wake up!"

I heard the screech a mile off. There was no way to avoid a sound like that – that sound being my mother announcing that she was awake, so everyone else in the house should be too.

"Oh joy," I muttered under my breath, burying my head deeply into the covers of my bed. "It's a Saturday morning, the summer holidays and there is no reason on this earth why I should wake up!" I nestled further into the sheets post-outburst, only to have them rudely removed.

"Get up!" mum smiled brightly down at me, and I glared icily to no effect. "It's a beautiful morning, the sun is out, and it's holiday time!"

"I know, I heard you the first time and then for the last week! It's morning, so I'd like my bed to remain firmly underneath me for at least another hour, please." I wrenched my covers back.

It wasn't that I was being particularly sullen or sulky. However, having just returned from University I was well used to lie-ins after having only one morning lecture a week, ONE. A solitary day where I had to rise unceremoniously at the crack of dawn, fight for the shower and get to a lecture for 9 o'clock in the morning.

"Up, Bernadette Richards, or we'll leave without you! Half an hour, your choice." That got me going, as my full name always did. I did want to go on this holiday, but to cut the costs we'd had to pick some fairly anti-social flights.

"Mother, call me Berna-bloody-dette and I will push you out of the boarding door mid-flight. " I sat up in bed, and stretched until each of my vertebrae cracked. I rested my feet on the floor and rubbed my eyes to clear any sleep from them. "Happy now?"

Mum's green-grey eyes twinkled as I squinted up at her in the mid-summer 6am sunlight. "Good morning to you too. There's some hot water left for a shower – but you really, really do need to get a move on. We need to be gone by seven, I want to pack the hairdryer and the other bathroom bits sooner rather than later.." She flounced out of the room, and I glared enviously that at 46 she had such good fortune. A fabulous figure, lovely hair and very few wrinkles ... and was a morning person.

I shook my head and stood, stumbling my way across the hallway to the bathroom where the lovely, scaldingly hot shower awaited me.

xxxXxxx

Click-Flash!

Click-Flash!

"Oh for Christ's sake, Benny, give up! You're giving me a headache," mum complained as I continued my snap-happy airport photography. Planes, the cute check-in attendant, and my little sisters Victoria and Jade were all my subjects. This was something I did obsessively when I was excited, or about to do something I really loved – in this instance flying somewhere far, far away. Photographs lasted a lifetime, and those little memories to me were a part of what made me who I was.

"I'm going to the loo for a minute," I said as I packed my camera away and placed my phone safely in my pocket. "I need to check my stuff." I gathered my rucksack protectively in my arms, and then swung it onto my back.

"Okay sweetie," my mum said absently as she flicked through her magazine. "Keep your phone on and don't be too long." I voiced my understanding and navigated my way through the busy departure lounge for the surrounding gates.

Checking my hand-luggage began with my dad, though he died when I was 15. He had cancer, terminally, and there was nothing else he could do to get rid of it. He was honourable and didn't want to go through chemotherapy because he didn't want us to see him suffering and in pain; he wanted our last memories of him to be when he was still happy, so full of life. He saw that we as a family were safe, financially and otherwise, and then...he did all but kill himself. He stopped the little treatment he was on and went into care, he very rarely let us see him. I was heartbroken, and mum was beside herself. It was a really horrible period of time and it nearly destroyed us as a family, but we made it though even if it left us a little worse for wear. Now it was approaching 5 years on, the time had flown by and I didn't really know where it had gone.

Dad loved travelling, but he had this strange compulsion to ensure our hand luggage was packed like an overnight bag, in case someone stole your suitcase or it was lost. Mum and the twins didn't do it anymore, but it had stuck with me since I was little and I didn't see the harm in keeping it up. It was a good thing I had, really; otherwise I'd have been in a mess 24 hours later – it's thanks to him I was at least a little prepared for what was going to happen. Sometimes I wonder if he knew it was going to happen – but I don't think about it much. Frankly, I try not to think about it at all.

I sat in the stall of the airport toilet and unpacked my bag, running a mental inventory. Underwear, pyjamas, t-shirt, brush, makeup bag, roll-on anti-perspirant, soap, toothbrush, toothpaste, chocolate, three books, mp3 player, camera, batteries, jewellery, and teddy. Everything I was likely to need.

Well, nearly everything I thought ruefully as I bought a few packs of tampons from the vending machine after re-packing my bag. There are some places men will not go.

I glanced up into the mirror before I left, considering my appearance. It wasn't that I stood out from a crowd, but I didn't follow particularly fashionable trends. My hair was short, a style that touched the nape of my neck at the back and slanted to well under my chin at the front, the bottle-black a stark contrast to pale skin. A silver lip ring, a small nose stud and a heavy side-fringe decorated my heart-shaped face; however, I left my slightly slanted green-grey eyes, like my mum's, clear to be seen as they were surrounded by smokey make-up. Not tall, not short, and a little more to love.

I shook myself internally and smiled. I wouldn't change how I was simply to fit in with the norm. Today, I was going to America – more specifically, Florida – which meant a long flight and many, many photographic opportunities. I twisted my dad's ring that sat on my thumb, wishing for a moment he was with us, so he could drag me on all the roller coasters and laugh at the pictures at the end of the ride.

I looked at the ring closely for the millionth time, marvelling at how simple it was, yet beautiful. Plain silver, a Leaf emblem sitting in the middle of a crest, surrounded by a crown. Dad found it when he was digging a vegetable plot in the garden, and decided it was going to bring him luck. I can remember clearly what he said that day as he made up a story for the symbols. The shield meant that nature held power that made it as royal as any king or queen to him, and he would look after his own bit of nature well.

I heard our flight being called out over the speakers in the bathroom and dashed back to the departure lounge, seeking out my mum and sisters. They were bickering about who was having the window seat as mum handed my boarding card and passport, along with my purse which I put in my bag.

We boarded the plane and headed to our seats – my allocated seat was right by the window with mum sat beside me, which was absolutely perfect. My sisters sat in front of us, their blonde heads close as they poured over the films offered on the flight, as listed in the in-flight magazine.

"Are you alright?" Mum asked as she was putting her bag underneath the seat, I myself was doing the same, and I grinned.

"You know it. Exited much?" I let out a squeak and she nodded, her wide smile reaching her eyes as she brushed her flyaway hair into a pony-tail.

"We're going to America, Benny – I can't believe we're finally doing it! And watch your grammar." Her tone held a clear edge of dissatisfaction.

"Sorry, excited; no much in that phrase." I said, grinning at her.

The plane started to taxi down to the runway and I fastened my seatbelt, tuning out from all the safety procedures. I'd had an early morning – I wanted to catch up on the sleep I'd lost.

As the plane began to pick up speed, I smiled and let the gentle pressure of take-off push my head back into the seat. I closed my eyes as the great white jet-plane soared upwards above the earth.

I was woken by a violent jolt as the aeroplane hit what I assumed was a bit of a bumpy patch– but I soon realised it was stronger than average mid-flight turbulence and high-speed winds. I looked around; there were a few panicked faces, and as a deep rumble echoed outside of the plane I worked out that we were flying through a pretty big storm.

"Would all passengers return to their seats and fasten their safety belts until the lights above your heads switch off, we're just going through a small storm... " intoned the pilot's calm voice on the overhead speakers. I'd fallen asleep with mine on, and I looked at mum who was nervously fiddling with her own.

"Here, " I muttered as I fastened it for her, and she closed her eyes tightly to block out everyone's faces. "It's gonna be alright, just a little storm like the pilot said ... " I said soothingly, not truly believing it.

The plane took a massive jolt and I felt the cabin pressure change as we dropped in height. The TV screens flickered and went black, thunder rumbled all the louder outside and flash of light I took for lightning.

I heard a scream from somewhere behind us and I automatically grabbed my mum's hand, panic and nervousness creeping into my stomach. I tangled my feet in the straps of my rucksack so I knew it was with me, and I whimpered as the plane bounced and dropped again with another tremendous crash. Everything in the cabin went dark as the storm threw us violently to one side and the emergency lights flickered into life, oxygen masks dropping from the ceiling.

Rapidly we dropped, then the jet tilted and I was thrown to my right into the wall of the plane. The twins in front of me were sobbing and I shouted at them that it was going to be okay as I held onto mum, but I screamed as I looked out of the window.

The engine and the wing was on fire and smoke billowed threateningly. I was beyond panic and falling into sheer terror as we began to spiral uncontrollably downwards through the bottomless sky. Without warning the world exploded in heat with a noise so close it went right through my chest, and all I could see were lights - bright whites and reds and yellows. There was unimaginable pain as my body felt like it was being ripped away, and finally, there was nothing.

Thank you for taking the time to read, and if you feel so inclined do leave a review.