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Story Notes:
Genres for this story include:Drama, romance, tragedy, suspense, action and adventure.
Warnings include: AU, Character Death, Graphic Sex,torture, language and violence.

I don not own nor do I make money off of anything I write here, and Tolkien's characters are of his own brilliance in entirety. However, my original characters are mine, so please no stealing?? thanks all! I would also enjoy ideas from readers ^ ^* BTW, if anyeone needs me to write out translations for the elvish, I can do that!
There was nothing stopping me now as I increased the pressure of my foot on the gas pedal of my red 1989 Mercedes and allowed a happy smile to spread across my face. I knew how rediculous I looked, grinning like a clown in the driver's seat of my car, which was loaded top to bottom with boxes, crates, plastic drawers, and suitcases full of as many of my personal belongings as I thought I could fit into a triple dorm room. There were even suitcases tied to the roof with yellow cord. No matter how much like a scene from the Goofy Movie I looked, I felt like I could fly, like my heart--already broken up into a million fluttering little butterflies in my chest--might pop out of my mouth and blow out of the window. I was nervous, excited, about to throw up in anticipation over what was going to happen to me the rest of the year.

The rest of my life was mine and mine alone, with no one to say 'yes' or 'no'--but no one to be there the second I needed them. I was doing everything my parents had brought me into this world to do: follow my heart and use smart choices to accomplish great things, things that would make me happy and benefit others. So, I had applied to art school in Kansas City and been accepted upon the first portfolio review I was forced to suffer through; on top of that I had been granted the president's scholarship for over half of my tuition based on the quality of my portfolio. Everything was set. Everything was going to go great! My heart surged once more in my throat and I screamed joyously, bouncing up and down in my seat as I whisked the volume switch on my radio as high as it could go and screamed at the top of my lungs to a song that I barely knew, but for that day, for some reason, it was my favorite song.

Behind, my dad and brother followed in a little silver Mercedes ( a piece of work from 1986 )carrying yet more of my luggage and making sure that I didn't get lost on my way to Kansas City, and had hands to help me move into my dorm during the time I was alotted. My hometown was a classic small town in northern Oklahoma, with cowboys, country music festivals, and people whose accent was something srtaight out of a western film. We lived four hours south of Kansas City, but the drive was beautiful, even on the highway. We drove through the foot hills of the Ozarks in Missouri and through the flat countryside farther into Kansas; there were fields of yellow wheat and green grass, and open skies as far as the eye could see--as blue as the most picturesque, post-card landscapes. The air smelled fresh, and I didn't mind the lingering tinge of animal manuer as I usually did, the reason being that I had nothing to worry about, nothing to weigh upon my mind or to drag me down from this high that had overcome me: an intense love of life and everything and everyone in it.

Through the blaring volume of the radio and the buzzing of my tired speakers I didn't hear my phone ring, but I saw the light flash saying that I had an incoming call, so I reached over, keeping my eyes on the road as my fingers felt the leather seat beside me in search of the vibrating cell phone. I flicked the volume of my radio down dramatically before flipping the phone open, lifting it to my buzzing ear.

"Yep?" I nearly shouted into my end and reached down quickly to roll my window up. Brushing my wild mohogany hair behind my ear and out of my face, I listened as my dad answered.

"Well, we've got about an hour left before we get there, sweetie!" His voice was as excited as I felt. In the background I could hear my brother, Joe, babbling on about something and laughing. "Son, I'm on the phone, will you hold on a second? Damn!" I smiled and giggled as I imagined my dad reaching over and randomly slapping whatever body part of my brother's his hand met first. That's how he and my mother used to keep my brother, younger sister, and I in check when we were very young and all rode in the backseat together.

"I know!" I squealed, bouncing up and down again. I knew he could see my sillhouette through my back windsheild-- he was following that close--because he laughed and I saw him wave in my rear-view mirror. "So do I just keep going the way I'm going... or?"

"No, yeah, just keep going. I'm going to pass you when we get close enough for you to get yourself lost." I rolled my eyes and scoffed. But he was right. I got lost pretty easily and had a confused, challenged sense of direction.

"Alright," I sighed, "Hey, how's you're foot doing?" He had broken his ankle in a motorcycle accident four weeks or so before and yet insisted on driving as he followed my all the way to Kansas City. He just couldn't lift anything, so that was why he brought my brother along. I was glad that he had, however, because I was begining to get sentimental and wishy washy for the old days when my siblings and I were little. "And how's Joe?"

"My foot's fine, Joe's fine, don't worry." He said casually. "You won't be able to worry about us for much longer!" I scoffed again.

"Yeah, right." I chuckled, "You know I'll always find time to worry and something to worry about. It's how I roll!" Inwardly I laughed and slapped myself for the stupid accent.

"Are you okay? Do you need Joe to drive for you yet?" My dad was persistent, pointing out--for the hundredth time--that I had not gotten enough sleep the night before and we still had an hour left in our trip.

"No," I said, "I'm fine. My back hurts though, but whatever. No biggie!" and smiled reassuringly, though he couldn't see me.

"Alright, well I gotta stop and straighten my leg. This damn brace is hell on my skin. It feels like little thingies are crawling all down my leg."

"Eeeww..." I winced.

Dad chuckled and said he loved me before I heard his end click and saw my phone display 'end of call'. Tossing the phone onto the dashboard so I'd catch the light easier if I had another call, I flicked my music up to full volume once more thumping my thumb against the steering wheel in time with the pounding beat.
Chapter End Notes:
Short, I know, but it's just a prologue! Like I said, this WON"T be a stupid Mary Sue thing, so no worries ^ ^* thanks for any reviews I'd appresiate the ideas C:
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