A/N: Hi everyone! I'm submitting this for a school assignment, and I wanted to put it up here so all of you could read it. :) Apparently, girl-on-the-island fics seem a bit cliche, but I haven't read that many. I'm guessing that most writers put a girl on the island so that there can be some non-yaoi romance. As of right now, I don't plan on putting any romance in this story. If I feel like it, I might make alternate romantic versions if I have time and if you seem to think it would be a good idea. Also, my OC doesn't appear in this chapter. As always, reviews and constructive criticism are highly appreciated.

Disclaimer: I do not own LotF. Well, I own a copy of it. If I owned the idea, I would have went into more detail concerning backstories.

The grey clouds hung in the sky like great beasts suspended in time, spectators to the battle unfolding in their aerial domain. The two planes danced and darted around each other like two birds, but this ritual was one of death. The fair-haired man tried once more to get above the enemy so he could drop the bomb on it and bring his foe to death, but the target flew higher once more with the same goal in mind. The pilot cursed. Why someone would want to create a dictatorship, much less support one, he did not know. The first war had scarcely ended, and now there was a second one because some wannabe ruler was working to seize the recovering countries as bricks to form his power. Then again, the world was far from perfect, and he knew from experience that society tended to flock to the strong whether they were just or not. He had decided years ago that the only perfect society was that in Heaven, but he did not want to die just yet.

He rose higher and saw his opponent do the same. He was tired of this mirroring. How ironic that the planes were moving in such a similar fashion despite their pilots fighting for opposite goals. He tried another approach and dived into the cloudy maw of grey that gaped below him.

He allowed himself a smile. This had probably thrown the enemy off. One minute, and he'd shoot up and finally get higher. He lamented the reality that things must be settled violently, but he knew that peaceful solutions seldom worked. He decided that he must take the role society had given him and play it to the best of his ability. He wanted to benefit mankind in whatever way he could. He had struggled with the fact that he must kill some to save the rest; shouldn't everyone have the right to live? He shoved the thought to the back of his mind when he got into his plane, replacing it with his belief that some people were simply too evil to deserve happiness.

Time was up. He jetted upward out of the dark sea in the sky, feeling invincible; untouchable; victorious until…

BOOOOOOOM!

He was slammed against the controls, and a searing pain ravished his body. He screamed and looked down at his fingers. They were embedded with minute shards of colored glass, and he wished he had kept his gloves on. There was fire behind him, and his terrified eyes widened further. Fire was his savior. Fire was his bane.

He turned away from the flames and looked out the shattered window. Below him, there was another plane. A civilian plane. He tried to call a warning, but his voice was choked out by the rushing wind and smoking flames. It was too late. He bit back a cry of pain as he and his enemy crashed into the aircraft below them. The three planes and their passengers tumbled out of the sky like fallen angels into the abyss that lay below them. He wished he had the naivety to think he could survive, but instead he decided to hope for a quick death. He curled up in his seat and prepared for the impact, not knowing whether to pray for the joys he had in life or curse for the human hatred that had struck them down together.

BOOOOOOOM!

They had landed. He was alive. The fair-haired pilot limped out of the wreckage, rivulets of blood running down his injured fingers. He surveyed the scene. To his surprise, the other two planes were in even worse shape than his was. The civilian plane lay cracked open like some immense carcass, but he was unable to see anyone inside it. He winced as he plucked the shards out of his palms.

Maniacal laughter seized him. He couldn't believe this cosmic joke. Another plane wreck on an island in the middle of a war. He knew it was an island this time; as a pilot, he must be aware of the areas he chose to fly over. He began to walk over to the wreckage to check for survivors, but he quickly changed his mind. He couldn't bear to look at another corpse, and he didn't want to take the chances that his enemy had survived. Gingerly, he relieved his plane of its arsenal and strapped his weapons to his aching body. He saw a large mountain and decided to climb it so he could survey the land.

As he limped through the thick underbrush, he saw a family of pigs. They were plump and amiable looking. Unbidden tears welled up in his eyes. Ever since the last crash, he had been unable to eat pork without retching and had given it up entirely.

When he finally reached the summit, he looked around. What he saw made him want to cry and scream like some littlun. Ralph was stranded on the same boat-shaped island he had escaped from years ago.