A/N: Hello readers! This chapter will be a much less formal writing style than the prologue; mostly because the prologue was from Gandalf's pov so it would have had to be formal in order to be believable. This chapter is a bit long, true, but its needed in order for you to get a sense of what brought her here as well as who she is; which is definitely Smaugs daughter, not some little girl who will change the world with her kindness and win everybody over with love. blegh.

though she will win them over, just not in the usual fanfiction way.

Warning! The main character in my story will swear A LOT! There will be A LOT OF SWEARING!

Did I say it loud enough? I just want to make sure everyone knows that before they read so they're not all 'I'm goin to report you for foul language! Blah blah blah…' ok? So besides that…if you don't like strong female leads that walk the thin line between evil and good; you won't like this story. She is definitely not the usual girl that falls into ME, as you shall see. (I hope anyways. i've never read a fic with someone like Iggie, so i'm assuming that she's different.) She is not naïve or unaccustomed to violence, and doesn't really have the greatest morals…she also has a tendency to have her mind taken over by Sauron—oops! Did I say that? O.o She's not the bad guy I promise!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of Tolkien's work! All I own is Iggie, my pet dragon slave!

OOoOoOoOoOoOo

She could barely remember how this all happened…but that was normal. It happened quite a lot with her—a byproduct of faulty caretakers and a severe problem with handling her temper. But she knew one thing for sure…

She was innocent.

There was no way she would just suddenly 'forget' that she'd taken a contract to kill someone. No, she was sure she was innocent.

Yes, it was true she had a temper—as that sniveling little pork-pie of a lawyer just loved to point out—but she had never, never, killed anyone. Wanted too? Yes. Fantasized? Yes. But never actually done—she had more control than that, as well as more morals and more brains. She had rules that she followed. Can you guess the most important of the rules? The one at the very top? Yup, that's right; it said DON'T KILL PEOPLE, AND THEN LEAVE YOUR PRINTS AND WITNESSES BEHIND!

And besides, if she was to kill someone—which she wouldn't—she would do a much better job at covering it up. She wasn't stupid; she'd been in courts and juvie and watched enough CSI reruns to know that you didn't leave your fingerprints at the scene!

She wasn't stupid…but then neither was he—that asshole who had betrayed her, set her up, left her to die…He was smart though, to pick her. She was an easy target, and the system had been trying their hardest to put her behind bars since she turned 18 a year ago.

She knew the odds of how this would turn out as soon as she was arrested, but that didn't mean she had to like it! And that didn't mean she wouldn't fight tooth and nail to change it either!

Everything about this week was a blur to her. A myriad of faces jumbled in her mind, all jeering at her with malice and that look that says 'I know what you did last summer…' Which they did. Because last summer she was still in Juvie, and that record was in her file. In bold, black letters.

…There was a lot of bold, black letters in her file.

But—she didn't kill anyone. Never. He did. She didn't.

But she could never tell them.

'You won't say anything...I know you too well.' He smirked, 'Above all else you'll protect your own. And I think you know exactly who I'll go after first too...'

He laughed wildly, 'Besides…who would believe a trouble making drop out like you, against me, a successful college student?

From behind the vault door she let out a stream of vicious curses against him, most involving his brutal and drawn out demise at her hands.

'Oh, yes,' That oh, so infuriating laughter. How she wished to strangle that sound out of him! '…so beautiful when you're angry, I've always wanted that look directed at me!'

She suddenly wished she was in this court not for the deaths of the MaKennie family, but for the decapitation of her betrayer—one George Marsh.

Bastard!

Red seeped into her vision, but she barely noticed it. She'd grown accustomed to it over the past week; so often, and strong, was her anger. Her face was blank as she listened to the adamant prosecutor ramble on about her various flaws and past…discrepancies. It only fueled her anger. And when he appeared, as a witness, well…let's just say that the only thing keeping him alive were the chains securing her hands and legs to the bolted down chair. Her swearing was also muffled, having been 'masked'—like a dog—after she'd bitten one of the other inmates arm bloody. Which made no sense, considering that she'd only bitten her in self-defense; the crazy Latino lady had come at her with a shiv for heaven's sake!

That man, if he could be called that, adjusted his jacket as he took his seat; eyeing her with—what she knew to be false, fake, mocking—fear. But, he had every right to mock her. She had fallen, she had lost her strong hold, and he had won the war in one fell swoop before she was even aware of its existence.

Now he should be a good boy and let her beat the crap out of him for it. Perhaps make sure he would never pass on his unfortunate ability to trick her onto any new generations, or even cut off that traitorous tongue so he could no longer spew those horrid riddles that had so mesmerized her. Oh how she wished he'd come closer.

So she could rip that bloody tongue out of his mouth!

"George Marsh, you said you were in the MaKennie Jewelers' store at the time of the robbery?"

"Yes, sir. Saw the whole thing sir."

"Can you tell the jury what you saw again, Mr. Marsh?"

"I was picking out a ring, to propose. It was a beauty, for my girlfriend, Laura MaKennie—" Oh, Yes, and he just had to have that in his favor too didn't he? It had been her suggestion to use her to get the vault codes in the first place! "And then, I saw…her…come in."

"According to the report you filed, the store was closed at the time; is that correct Mr. Marsh?"

"Yes, sir. It was going to be a surprise for—"At this he choked up a little, and Iggie ground her teeth. He cleared his throat then, "Excuse me."

"That's quite alright Mr. Marsh. Please continue."

She could practically hear the collective 'aaw' the jury was no doubt sighing in their mind. They were eating his spiel up, word for lying fucking word!

"It was going to be a surprise and, considering she works full time at the shop…I didn't want her to know what was going on. So, Mr. MaKennie was going to ring me up after hours."

"So he was there with you?"

"Yes. So was his wife." He smiled sadly, "I asked for her help to pick it out—a woman's judgment is best you know?"

"And what happened next, Mr. Walsh."

"She…she came in, just after we closed. I don't think she expected us to be there. We were back by the vault, where only Mr. MaKennie's best were located. Mr. MaKennie…he didn't see her until it was too late."

"What happened to Mrs. MaKennie, Mr. Marsh."

"She…she tried to make a run for it. She made it to the lobby before she…" He swallowed thickly. "Before she was gunned down."

"By this time, the call was made to the police. We have the records of this call, your honor, at 8:14 Sunday night, March 13th. Made from the cell phone of Mr. Marsh's girlfriend, Laura. Why was she there if this meeting was secret Mr. Marsh?"

That villain didn't falter, or even blink before he answered, "I don't know sir, we…we'd been having problems at the time, and when I told her I was going out with some friends but wouldn't let her join…I think she thought I was having an affair. I'd been secretive lately, but only because I didn't want her to find out about the ring!"

Technically he had been having an affair. They'd been together that way for nearly a year now…how had she missed this side to him? How had she not known he was playing her? All his secretive riddles and vague goings-on, it had appealed to her so much, interested her so much that she had missed what was truly under that sly smile of his completely. She felt a fool.

He would regret making her feel like this. Just as she regretted letting him in…

"Mr. Marsh, how exactly did you get out of this seemingly hopeless situation, when no one else did?"

"When she went to attack me, I pushed her. Into the vault. Then I bypassed the security lock and changed the pass code. She was stuck in there, until the cops came."

Yes, and all the while she listened to his taunts and his laughter and felt anger and despair so strong she literally puked all over the 2,000 dollar necklace that was in there…that necklace would never shine the same way ever again.

"Thank you Mr. Marsh, that'll be all."

George Marsh looked over briefly at her, and in that one passing glance she saw every word he wished he could say to her in that court room. Every self-satisfied smirk, every malicious laugh, every dark painful jab at her uselessness, at her inability to do anything to stop him...she saw all of it there, in that one glance he gave her, and felt something snap in her mind.

He left the courtroom a confident, but dead, man. He just didn't know it yet, and neither did she.

Iggie felt despair rise up in her as he left, but it didn't outweigh her rage. She gave him no tears—as she had promised long ago, to a barely remembered face, that she would never cry again. She would be strong—and so she felt it all boiling up inside her as she had never felt before. She'd never been so angry. No angry wasn't a strong enough word; she felt murderous rage, the likes of which she imagined only Bruce Banner felt after a tanning session in Gamma rays. Except she wasn't green—she was red as a cherry airhead, so red that even her mottled freckles looked scorched. A bead of sweat dripped down into the band of that awful contraption they'd put around her mouth.

The rest of the hearing went on in a haze of vehement words and angry, pointing fingers. A buzz sounded in her ears, her eyes clouded over. She clenched her hands around the cold chain binding her and trapping her and keeping her from mauling everyone in this room…she would reflect later that it really would have been better if they hadn't chained her, gagged her and kept her in that awful cage for weeks before the hearing. It really hadn't been in their best interests…

"We have reached a Verdict."

The words flew in through her daze of confusion, disbelief and rage. She looked up slowly, and found the judge was looking straight at her, not at her crazed eyes, but at the trail of blood sliding out from the mouth-mask they'd put on her. Her sharp canines had pierced through her lip, and she hadn't even noticed; she still didn't. she felt nothing except an overwhelming trepidation as she waited with bated breath for his decision.

"Ignacia Hughes will receive a life sentence. Death penalty pending." The ring of his gavel droned on in her ears long after it had stopped echoing throughout the silent court room.

She was innocent! This wasn't right!

She breathed heavily, staring sightlessly down at the veneer of the dark wooden desk before her, but as a splash of her blood hit its counter her light brown eyes focused wholly on it.

The words of the judge repeated in her mind, echoing. Life sentence…Death penalty…

She wouldn't do it! She couldn't allow this! She would not let that bastard kill her, she would not die by the hand—even inadvertently—of someone so below her. Someone with no honor, no sense of loyalty…how could she be killed by someone like that?

He was scum upon this earth. And scum could not kill her!

A hand grabbed her elbow, tugging her roughly, but she didn't move. Another drop hit the counter. Splat, splat…those drops sparkled oddly, shimmering around the edges. Her labored breathing grew as she resisted the efforts of the guards to lift her, but she knew it was a useless endeavor. She was stronger than them, but she couldn't hold out forever. For once there was no way out. She had finally been backed into a corner in which she couldn't climb out off. She was trapped…

She felt her chest collapse under her grief. Life sentence…Death penalty… over and over again in her mind. She was going to die. She knew she wouldn't survive in prison. It was too small, too confined, and even her many brief stints in jail had nearly killed her. She wasn't meant to be caged, she couldn't handle it. She would kill herself before they took her. There was no way she'd allow herself to just lie down in a cell and await her eventual death. If anything, she would die honorably, fighting for her freedom…but even that thought gave her no comfort.

Tears fell and joined the droplets of blood, and she gave no thought to her promise so many years ago to that faceless man, as the despair nearly crushing her. She was lost to everything else except watching those perfect circular droplets merge together…and then watching those beads in sudden horror as a pupil, black and endless, opened in the center of then. The roaring in her ears grew in time with the despair she felt, increasing with each thought of her impending sentence.

"Get her out of here! The hearing is over!"

She didn't hear them...

Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul…

"I—I can't! I can't move her even an inch!"

She heard nothing except the burning, strange words in her head...

Ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.

"She's—she's burning up…Wh—what the hell? What is this—?"

Gurb ghnash…bolg kûlkodar…latob gurb ashdurbûk! (1)

That voice, in her head…it terrified her. Those black words laced with such command and darkness and intense possession of her…it sent her most basic instincts to flee into overdrive. But despite having always had unnaturally good survival instincts…it wasn't enough to outweigh the power that voice had over her. Her red vision blinked out as she shut her eyes, struggling to control herself; to keep something from releasing. She wasn't sure what, but it wouldn't be good.

In the darkness of her vision, a bright iris screamed into existence, blanking out everything else as that contracting pupil swallowed her waning strength. She struggled to maintain control, and the murmurs of the people in the courthouse didn't reach her ears. All she heard was that horrible screeching voice, booming through her to her very soul, taking her breath and forcing her hands to clench until they bled. She felt nothing of the tugging on her, and knew nothing of the confusion of the men who were twice her size but couldn't move her, despite avid pulling.

Matatug Tak!

Kill Them!

Suddenly, she saw his face in her mind. That George Marsh.

She saw his sadistic, satisfied grin as he pushed her into the vault. Felt the betrayal all over again as she listened from within to his taunting. Felt her rage and sorrow boil in her throat again as she watched him act out his little play for the judge and jury, lying, lying, lying!

Her control snapped! She could take no more, and so she grabbed fist-full's of her chin length choppy hair, staining it red with her tainted blood. A gargle erupted from her throat as she threw herself from her chair, her back arching upwards as she hunched in on herself. She felt something tearing through her skin, rupturing from her back and spreading out from her shoulders. The people backed away, the guards ordering the evacuation of the jury. They responded hurriedly, in a panic, and Ignacia—no not Ignacia anymore, it was that voice—felt actual pleasure at their fear. A scream erupted from her, high and rasping and inhuman. Her body was on fire. Whatever she'd tried to fight was no longer caged within her, and it was becoming increasingly hard to keep herself apart from it; whatever it was. All that was left of Iggie in this uncontrollable beast of rage-this beast who's strings Sauron was pulling-was a tiny voice calling, calling out for someone…someone she didn't remember but knew to be real, knew to be her last hope. She needed him, that Grey Man.

The low ceiling of the courthouse crashed down on her—no...She'd crashed into it. Another roar called out from her throat, no longer her own but of something larger, an ancient sound that struck those around her as prehistoric in nature. The screams of the people below her, so tiny now, fed her desperate anger and confusion and she could not fight the influence of the Black voice in her mind. She picked out one face from the crowd...a once sly face filled only with overwhelming terror. George Marsh.

Matatug Tak!

With a long sweep of her neck, she acted on instinct—once so prized by her, but now so terrifying—and opened up her jaws in a wide display of razor teeth intent on snapping the backs of their target. However, ungainly as she was in this new unfamiliar form, she missed and came crashing down into the building beside him. One giant, golden eye slid over the rubble, looking for her victim. She found him there, under a great metal beam, eyes blank and sightless as blood pooled around him. She gave a cry, long and terrible, but she wasn't sure if it was one of terror, despair or satisfaction.

With a swing of her head, golden eyes focused on the hordes of people running accross the ruined street. She learched for them, ready to snap down on them as she had failed to do with George Marsh. With a clack! she bit down on nothing, and the relieved citizens ran screaming for safety, crying in desperate fear and confusion. It was not every day you enter a court room and exit fearing you would get eaten...

A predators eyes swung to what had prevented her attempted kill, and met with the blinding light of a staff that seemed so familiar. She lurched for the light, the words Matatug Tak! repeating over and over in her mind, washing away all thought and rationale.

"Cease this mindlessness! Remember who you are!"

Who? Who was she?

"Fight! Fight this moment or forever be prisoner to him!"

I…fight…but, so…hot. I have to…have to…

Matatug Tak!

NO! No I won't do this! My rules…I have rules!

A memory came back to her, bearing the voice that hid behind that shining light, it said, "There are always rules, little one...no matter where you go. And some rules, should never be broken..."

"To Kill the innocent, is to bring death upon ones self."

It was the basic principle she'd followed her whole life. A barely remembered dream, but so ingrained in her subconscious that it was never truly forgotten.

What am I…doing? I was…I was going to…I killed-

A great wail came forth, and all the pent up anger, and fear, came rushing forth from her mouth—now long and snout like and filled with ivory pointed teeth. She lowered her head, feeling out of place in whatever this form she had unleashed was. A long white neck arched down, but she felt uncoordinated in her own skin ending up crushing the wall of a small house with her hurried decent. She gave a whine, an almost grumble as she moved, bringing more destruction in her wake; although unintentionally. Eventually she just stopped moving, laying her head down in defeat and repeating the Grey Wizards words over the, now whispered, Black Speech in the back of her mind.

"To Kill the innocent, is to bring death upon yourself." She tried to speak, but all that came out was a dull bleet that resounded across the now deserted and destroyed street. Her eyes closed in pain and terror at the happenings around her, when a hand, a gentle hand, sweeping over her snout in comforting groves forced her to open them once again.

Before her, the light pierced the dark, but she didn't need it to see the aging face before her. It looked so familiar, so kind and warm and inviting; as was that stroking hand so small in contrast to her now large head. She felt safe.

"Be still...We shall be home soon…"

Home? Just what exactly is that?

She wasn't sure what anything was anymore. She fell asleep in the midst of rubble and destruction all around her, but felt nothing but the warm caress of the Grey Man's soft hand.

Maybe that was home?

OOoOoOoOoOoOo

1.(One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them…)

(One ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them.)

(My fire…my blood thirsty dragon…you belong to me, the one ruler!)