Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Lord of The Rings, or anything else about them. I do, however, own the names and personas of my original characters, as you will see later on throughout the story. No offence is intended over any bad language within the text - I did warn you, so no flames, please!

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Everything was so peaceful. My bedroom curtains were drawn together and blocking out any selfish sunlight that was trying to disturb me. The music of my City whispered against the glass of my windows, but was granted permission of entrance in the form of nothing more than a mere echo. I lay upon my stomach with my face smooshed into the cushioned body of my soft pillow, and my exhausted body was entangled in my thick duvet. It was pure paradise.

But like a gunshot out from the darkness, my telephone began to ring and pierced through the element of serenity. I jerked awake and gave a startled snort as I pushed myself up onto all fours. I rubbed the side of my head tiredly and sat upon my knees with my sheets wrapped around my body, and my hair in a messy disarray around my face.

Ring ring ring...

I suddenly realised that my telephone was ringing, and in my effort to meet it before the caller gave up, I leapt up to stand, but my sheets caused me to topple straight over onto the hard, wooden floor. I let out a breathless groan and rolled onto my back to gaze up at the ceiling, my hip throbbing sorely. The answer machine was on, thank goodness. I lay there and listened to the recorded voice give instructions, and it then gave a long beeeeep. A beep that was announcing just how much trouble I was in.

"Kitty, where the hell are you?? Tony's going mad, breathing down my neck about these designs that were suppose to be in yesterday!" A familiar, anxious voice called out.

I gasped in complete shock and slapped my hand to my mouth. Oh my goodness! I had slept in! I craned my neck round and glared up at my disloyal radio. Why hadn't my alarm gone off?!

"If this is the result of another of your late-night sessions at The Break, then you can forget a back up quote from me. It's my neck on the line here, too, Kit. Kitty? Are you even there? Jesus!" The woman shouted.

"Nooooo!" I groaned tiredly, and rolled over, burying my face into the comfort of my sheets.

"If you don't get your skinny little toosh down here in forty minutes, we can kiss our Summer trip goodbye. You better be here." She concluded.

There was a soft click, and a long beep followed. I released a groggy sigh of apprehension into my duvet; this was going to be a long day. I could tell. Just then, my radio turned itself on, and the song 'You Had A Bad Day' by Daniel Powter. I slowly lifted my head and stared up at the radio in disbelief. Typical. Now the alarm goes off, when it's not needed.

"A little late, don't you think?" I snapped at it.

Rolling my eyes, I forced myself to climb up onto my feet. I let the duvet fall around my feet and lifted my hands high in the air to give a good, tight stretch, and yawn, with the addition of a heavy sigh afterwards. I moved to my curtains and whipped them apart so that the golden sunlight nearly half-blinded me. I waved a dismissive hand at it, and turned away to traipse over to my bedroom door and open it. I lived in a nice apartment which, without boasting, was a little more than a satisfactory accommodation. I was a designer for a magazine company called Spice, so I designed the layouts and fonts and colours and, practically how everything was structured. The entire appearance of it. It was my responsibility, along with a whole other crew of people. You'd think that would take some of the weight off of my shoulders... hardly.

I walked down my long, white hallway and turned into my clean, modern kitchen to turn on the coffee maker. I switched the TV on which sat upon the counter, and climbed up into the seat of one of the silver stools which was at the middle table. I picked up an apple from the bowl and crunched into its juicy body, staring at the television screen, slightly bored. As I flicked through the channels, the trailer for the last instalment of 'Lord of The Rings' flashed into view. I stopped. I was never much of a movie person, but I had read the books, and enjoyed them. Everyone always assumed that because I was a blonde designer, I was rather thick. Meaning, I didn't read. No one took me seriously - and part of that was probably because of how damn clumsy I was. I called it a curse.

I saw Legolas' entrancing eyes flicker across the screen, and I smiled lightly. Gosh, he was just as handsome as he came across in the books, in my imagination. I took another bite out of my apple and read the release date of the film. Just three weeks away. I tucked a long strand of my blonde hair behind my ear and slipped down from the stool to walk over to the coffee maker.

"Twenty-two, and already addicted to caffeine. Such a role model, Kitty." I sighed to myself as I retrieved a cup from the cupboard.

My mother had always warned me of the magic of coffee. She, being an addict herself, was the one who got me into it in the first place! Ah well, I couldn't care. I needed it, especially for this morning.

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"Here we are, sweetness." The taxi driver announced as he pulled up at the curb.

I opened my handbag with my free hand, holding my flask of coffee in the other, and wiggled my fingers about in an attempt to break open my purse. I pulled out a note that was worth more than needed, but I was in a rush, and didn't have time to find the correct amount. I leant forwards and handed the bill to the driver, and when he saw it, his eyes widened.

"Yeah, keep the change." I sighed, distracted by my belongings which were scattered around me.

"Hey, you sure?" He chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah." I uttered.

I close my red handbag and took up the handle of my art folder in my hand. I somehow managed to open the door without dropping anything, and climbed out onto the curb. Just as I did so, a strong force of the summer wind swooped down upon me and mercilessly lifted my skirt up to my stomach. I let out a startled, embarrassed scream and spun around, and a number of passers chuckled, stared, or worse, drooled. My frilly skirt floated back down around my thighs and I slammed the taxi door shut in my rage.

"Whoooo, yeah baby!" Some idiotic guy screamed out of the window as he drove past.

The taxi pulled away from the curb and I glared at the person who had shouted out so rudely at me. I huffed to myself, and took a sip from my coffee. My morning hadn't been the best, so far. I joined into the current of business men and women who were marching along the sidewalk and blew a blonde stray from my eyes. I could hear a series of people shouting down their phones to try and hold conversations over the loud city noises, and the sharp claps of feet stomping at the ground surrounded me. The place was buzzing with life, as usual. I was just an insignificant thread in a huge tapestry. But then again, if I were to fray, the whole piece of art would be ruined. So, that may have been true, but then again, I was just using quotations that my grandma used to ramble on with. I didn't feel important.

I turned around the corner and could finally see the large sign creeping down the face of the building:

Spice

My second home. From Monday to Friday, I was there from ten in the morning, until eight at night. But depending on the tasks, I had been there until one in the morning on a number of occasions. Fun, ey? Well, it was what gave me the luxurious life I was lucky to live. Erm... ok, so my house was the only thing luxurious. That, and my boyfriend. Coincidentally, my cellphone began to rang from inside my handbag. As I turned into the entrance of Spice's building, I cooperated with the movement of the slow-spinning door, and entered into one of the sections, and shuffled round to meet the next doorway.

I struggled to find a way to get my phone out of my bag with my coffee in one hand, and my art folder in the other. Impossible? Quite. Here is an example of just how clumsy and careless I was: I stopped almost right in front of the busy entrance to hold my art folder up between my legs. I then was able to take out my phone, and just as I flipped it open, someone barged past me in their phase of 'rushed business' and knocked violently against my elbow. As a result, my hot, dark coffee splashed out of the lid of its container and spilt all down the front of me. I inhaled a tragic gasp and stared down at my now stained white shirt in shock. It was hot, smelly, and my bra was now visible. The fucker.

"Baby? Baby, you ok?" My boyfriend's voice echoed from my mobile.

People passed me without a single care, but were generous enough to send me their sniggers and gasps of amusement. They were just grateful that it wasn't their unlucky morning. We all had our fair share. And I was just the poor sucker who was falling apart. My turn!

"Honey, can I call you back?" I uttered to my boyfriend.

"Uh... sure. Everything alright?" He asked.

"Peachy." I snapped, and shut the phone angrily.

I stuffed my phone back into my purse and turned the lid of my coffee flask to close it up. I picked up my folder again and, with an enduring, low growl, and marched onwards towards the elevators. I really wasn't enjoying the start to my day. Was this punishment for not having woken up on time? Oh, I didn't know. But what I did know was that there was probably much more bad luck on its way...

I received several glances from my fellow workers on my travel upwards. Empathetic ones, unsympathetic ones, and amused ones. I felt my cheeks blushing bitterly and kept my gaze to the floor. Perhaps it was because my bra was on display, or because everyone knew just how uncoordinated I was. I was just the air-headed blonde who was good at nothing other than designing and making myself look pretty. I didn't even put myself under that category. Pretty was being nice to myself.

I watched each number light up, one after the other, from smallest to largest, above the elevator door. The people around me all stood silently, clearing their throats, or just breathing like any other human being who was 'excited' to get to their long day's work. It finally lit up number 30 and the elevator locked upon the level with a sprightly little 'ping!'. The doors rumbled open and I stepped out onto my busy, loud level. People were working away in their work cubicles, either on the phone, or their computer. Phones were ringing, and voices were chattering and ordering, and the air was filled with an aroma of coffee. I would bet anything that nearly all of the people in this place were high on caffeine. If they weren't, then they were slowly dying. You needed coffee to survive this jungle.

"Morning Katherine." Someone called from inside their compartments.

I looked over and forced a smile out, "Morning."

"Nice shirt, kitten," Felix sarcastically mocked me as he passed, "I must get one. What is that - Late and Gabanna?"

A smile of pure dislike spread across my face, "Morning to you too, Marcus. Have fun at the nail salon last night?"

His smile vanished, and everyone around who had heard giggled under their breaths. Clearly, that man was gay and in denial. It was more than obvious. I loved how it wound him up. I turned down a new walkway and received a few good-morning's and hello's from my fellow workers in their compartments, and finally reached my office. I entered the room and, pushing the door shut behind me with the heel of my shoe, sighed loudly and fell into the body of my leather, cushioned chair.

"God..." I breathed out, "What a morning."

There was a hesitant knock at my office door, and I rolled my head to the side to lazily look over at it. I hadn't been here more than a minute and already I was being called upon. Lovely. Bring it on.

"Come in." I called.

The handle turned, and the door opened. The head of my mousy secretary poked her head in and, spotting me on the chair, produced a nervous little smile. She was in her late forties, but had the personality and assertiveness of a ten year old. I couldn't help but feel sorry for her all the time.

"Um, Miss Stokes, I have some urgent messages for you. I assumed that you weren't coming in today, seeing as you're, well, never late -- uh, anyway, I have them here." She then giggled at herself and rolled her eyes.

She held her hand out and showed me the many pieces of sticky-notes that had the 'urgent messages' written upon them. I beckoned her towards me with a wave of my hand and she scurried over with a delighted smile. I took the notes from her and flipped through them.

"Great..." I sighed miserably, "Thank you, Fran."

"Ok. Is there anything I can do for you whilst I'm here?" She asked.

I shook my head, but my eyes remained glued to the notes, "No, thank you."

Fran nodded and left the room quietly. I sank down in my seat and sighed to myself. I then began wondering: what in god's name inspired me to take on this job when I was younger? Must have been the blonde genes in me. Keh.