Author's Note: So um, a friend of mine and I decided to swap chapter updates. I still owe her a RITD update. Don't let me forget that. (It's in the works, but progress is slow.)

I was going to upload several chapters at once. I have a few more following tomorrow. I'm sick right now, and I haven't been able to do much writing, and even less editing. So here's the first of many chapters.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I just drool all over the computer screen and write fanfiction when I'm not drooling all over my darling Tecat who is very upset with me. (That's my OC Dark Lady. She's rather jealous of Morgoth and Sauron at the moment. And she's looking for minions. Would anyone like to join her army?)

The Scourge of the Closet

"Where is he? Where is the strapping young lad I was expecting?"

Linaer stifled an annoyed grumble. "He's ill. Bed ridden…and his parents would not let me see him." Tired and grumpy after having been kept up by a former dark lord's sadistic glee at being escorted to a light festival of all things, and then being stomped on by one of the cats, Linaer was left with little tolerance for her mother's marriage-fixation. Still she grit her teeth, and kept her grumpiness locked away. "They said he expressed an interest in seeing me at some point, and they thought that he might um…accompany me to the Light Festival."

She couldn't figure out how in the world Zigûr was going to wear clothing let alone pass off being a human kid, but as soon as she'd woken, before she'd even been allowed to smell a cup of tea, Zigûr had seen fit to explain his ideas to her in a manner that left her with no clue what he was actually up to.

"- delightful dress-"

"What?"

Her mother, disappointed by the lack of her expected dinner guest, had started rambling about the Lamp Festival.

"You silly girl," her mother utter a short laugh, "I was thinking you could do with a new dress."

"But Mother-"

"Don't but me. It's been a while since I got you a new one, and I have a feeling that this young man will be a keeper." Linaer coughed, and quickly buried her nose in a cup of tea. She didn't know if she wanted to laugh or run, as memories of last night flooded her mind. She was sure one former dark lord was laughing somewhere. "So you will make a good impression."

Linaer swallowed a gulp of hot tea, wincing as it burned her throat. She was sure she could hear him laughing. If by 'good impression' her mother meant beating whatever was left of his spiritual essence to death with a frying pan, Linaer was very happy to oblige.

"I was thinking something light…white and pink, pure and innocent…." Her mother mused out loud much to Linaer's annoyance.

"How about red or purple!?" Elwin asked, before tearing into a second slice of toast.

"Oh no, I will never allow either of you to wear red. It's such a vulgar colour. And purple is far too expensive, though it would be lovely," the woman sighed in disappointment.

"I would like blue -"

"But it's such a dreary colour."

Linaer bit back a few words that were bound to get her in trouble. "Blue is deep, endless, thought provoking, and I have no interest in marrying a muttonhead. If he can't provide me with thoughtful and intelligent conversation- I think would rather marry a sheep."

Elwin burst into a fit of laughter.

A small smile touched Linaer's lips. "I guess I have this insane idea that I want to be in love before I get married, like you and…." She trailed off. Across from her, her mother nodded her head, a soft smile teasing her lips.

"I have nothing against romance. But more often than not we don't find love where we want it, but where we need it. Linaer you want a man who can provide decent conversation, when what you might need is a stoic, someone who can't talk at all, or even a 'muttonhead.'"

Linaer scowled at notion of falling in love with an idiot. There was no way her mother was correct about that one, but she supposed she understood what her mother was getting at. Except the girl never felt like she was in need of anything, certainly not anything that she couldn't provide for herself already.

"It's why arranged marriages were so common long ago. Parents sometimes have a better grasp of their children's strengths and weaknesses than their children do. So they would seek out suitable matches, with an eye out for status and wealth as well, but it was generally thought that their children would come to fall in love with someone that fulfilled their needs. It didn't always work out. But when it did it was beautiful."

"What do we need?" Elwin asked, leaning her head against Linaer's arm.

"Well your sister needs someone who can dodge frying pans, or she'll wind up married to a muttonhead regardless." To that Elwin howled with raucous laughter and Linaer snorted as her face burned.

"And you dearest," their mother reached across the table to pull a few locks hair away from Elwin's face. "You need a knight to chase away all your monsters."

"But I have Lin for that!" Elwin grinned, as Linaer laughed and wrapped an arm around her.

"Yes, but your sister won't be here forever. She's going to get married, find a nice to settle down, and-"

"But I can live with her. Find a really big house Linny!"

At that the older girl bit her lip. "Sure." Once again they were planning for a future that wasn't going to happen. Icy claws sank into her chest as she thought of the doom before them, but she hid her thoughts behind a smile. "I'll make sure it's a huge house."

"Lika castle?"

Linaer smiled. "It can be a castle." She pressed her lips to the top of Elwin's head before looking toward her mother.

"Can I be excused?"

"Of course-"

"Thank you." Feeling cold with dread she slipped from the table to find some reprieve and sleep.

Linaer shuddered as she entered her bedroom. The heat that suddenly washed over her, while it wasn't unbearable, it still shocked her after being in the cooler parts of the house. She warily eyed the dark shadowy mass wafting before her closet before stumbling over a pile of laundry and flopping on the bed.

Ignoring the evil miasma of darkness she snuggled into the blankets, in the hopes of recapturing a few lost hours. Before her head even hit the pillow, Linaer's eyes had closed and her mind had sunken into murky warm darkness.

For a fleeting a moment she thought she heard the faintest traces of a tune and then nothing.

The air was different. She couldn't say how…but it was. It was like no air anywhere else. It was invigorating and tiring to breathe at the same time. Sweet and pungent like a freshly opened jar of molasses or a vase of gardinia blossoms.

Smiling she strode forward, under the soft dancing shadows of towering trees, and through long swaying grass that tickled her knees. She was going home….

Far off she could see a small brown building; its door flung wide open, and its inner walls flickering with an occassinal burst of orange light. A grin widened her lips and she broke into a run, but the house never got closer.

A cold chill raced along her spin and she skidded to a harsh stop as dread suddenly held her fast. The air turned stale and bitter, and Linaer choked on it. A shadow rose up from behind her, covering her, the trees, grass, the tiny house, and the land beyond in darkness.

Hands slick with sweat, she stood, feeling eyes upon her. She wished she had her frying pan, but she'd left it in the kitchen. She felt the menace moving toward her.

Coughing and heart hammering she turned to face it-

"Hast thou come to a decision yet?"

"Woah! Shit!" Linaer sat up, throwing the blankets aside, and scrambling away from the smoky entity hovering at the side of her bed. "WHAT-!? Ouch!" She hissed as she stubbed her toe.

"Ow! Ow! Son of a-!"

"Lin, are you alright?!" Her mother's voice called from the kitchen.

Hissing and muttering choice curses under her breath she gimped over to her bookshelf. Bracing herself against it, she looked down at her screaming toe. The nail was broken, and the skin was a bright red, but it looked fine otherwise. Gritting her teeth, she wrapped a hand around it, to comfort it, protect it, and stifle the pain.

She shot the fallen Maia her evilest glare, daring him to laugh or say something insulting, before turning her attention to the sound of nearing footsteps.

"I'm fine! I-I tripped!" She didn't tear her eyes away from the roiling mass of darkness. "It's a common courtesy not to sneak up on people when their sleeping," she hissed at him. "And you called me a living faux pas? Really?!"

"Lin are you sure you're alright?"

Linaer's head whipped toward her bedroom door, before she cast another dark look in the fallen Maia's direction. Lips pursed and eyes bright, she gestured toward the closet.

"I'm fine! I was…" she bit her lip, as her toe touched the ground. Linaer turned her focus toward protecting her toe as she skirted a pile of laundry and a precarious stack of books. "I dozed off, had a sort of nightmare, tripped over something, stubbed my toe. I'm fine."

Linaer pulled open her door. "I'm fine Mom. Really." I just have a Dark Lord hanging out in my room.

"I'm sorry you had a bad dream, but if you cleaned up once in a while, you might not have tripped and hurt yourself."

It took every ounce of self control Linaer had to keep from glowering at her mother. "Yeah…." She glanced back at her overly dark closet. He was lucky she didn't have a frying pan! Or an arm long enough for her to punch him from where she stood.

"Linaer?"

The girl schooled her expression and looked back at her mother, heart hammering in her throat all of the sudden. It was a bad idea to look in that direction. If her mother thought there was someone-she stuffed that line of thought in a dark corner of her mind. There was no need for it.

"Yes?" She was surprised her voice didn't shake with the tempo in her throat.

"Are you in need of shoes?"

"What?" Linaer frowned. "Shoes? Shoes… for the festival you mean? No… I don't think so…? I'll check on that." She tried not to think about how close that would bring her to an evil fallen dark lord that she'd cussed at, yelled at, glared at, and nearly revealed. Her traitorous mind ignored her wishes, immediately conjuring memories of her burned hand.

"See what you have, and bring me your best pairs. And I know you have some dirty laundry. Why don't you make your floor a little less treacherous by bringing some to the washroom?"

"Sure." Getting out of the house, and away from her roommate, suddenly seemed like a wonderful idea. "When are we leaving?"

"I'm supposed to be taking Elwin to a friend's house in a couple of hours, so you and I can look at dresses while we're out." Inwardly she still rolled her eyes at the idea of stuffing another dress into her closet, but under the circumstances dress shopping sounded almost wonderful. She looked forward to going, if it got her away from Zigûr.

"I'll go look at my shoes…."

Linaer forced herself to return her mother's smile, before shutting the door.

The girl let her head land against the cool dark wood, as she tried to calm herself. The air around her was growing warm, but she closed her eyes and tried to shove it along with everything else into the back of her mind.

It was easy. It was too easy to pretend the world was as it should be when all around her nothing seemed to be changing. Playing dress up was a lot more fun and a lot easier than trying to confront the very idea that world was in peril. Turning around though, and once again being faced by simmering darkness, it was hard to think of anything other than the world coming to an end.

In the tense silence that suddenly pervaded her room, the only movement was the soft movements of the dark haze a few feet away from her. Linaer was starting to get the feeling that she was in some sort of impromptu battle of will. Why? She wasn't sure she wanted to guess. All she really wanted, was grab a few a shoes and put as much distance as she could between them for as long as possible. But Zigûr was between her and the closet.

He had some power in his condition, more than she'd thought if his voice play and the burn on her hand were any indication, but how much did he really have? What could he do to her? What could he do to Elwin?

Linaer weighed her options. It would be all too easy to decide if a pan was handy. She might not accomplish anything more than denting the walls, but it would still feel good to take a few swings at him. Running from her room like she wanted to do probably wasn't in her best interest. That would be admitting defeat. He'd win. If he thought he had power over her, he'd probably just go out of his way to make her as miserable as possible….

Whatever it was he was trying to gain- dominion over the bedroom she guessed- she probably couldn't stop him. He was a Maia, older than the earth itself, with abilities she'd never be able to understand, but… she could try to earn his respect. That might make things more tenable for everyone involved. That could work, but she had no idea how she was going to accomplish that.

In any case she needed to make a move of some kind, before he decided to do something.

Still uncertain, and with her head screaming for her to run, Linaer clenched her teeth and took a step forward.

The former dark lord didn't say anything, he didn't suddenly reach for her, he didn't burn her; he didn't move. He was as still as ethereal haze of darkness could be. Linaer worried over what that meant. A tiny voice in her head whispered, 'trap!' and another countered with, 'he just waiting to see what I'm doing.' Right….

Linaer forced herself to move forward, trying to look calm, all the while questioning her sanity. He burned some important person to death with a mere touch. Could he do that now? Running was still an option. It wasn't the best, but it was gaining appeal.

Balling her fists to keep them from shaking she stopped only inches remained between her and the fallen Maia.

Stealing a quick breath to calm herself she said, "excuse me," trying to keep her voice as even and calm as possible.

Zigûr remained silent, but the darkness before her went nearly still, more so than before if that was possible. Then slowly, very slowly, the fallen Maia drew closer narrowing the gap between them even further. Linaer's heart sputtered, as every inch of her body screamed to run, and her breath froze in the back of her throat, which was fine, because Linaer was horrified by the possibility of inhaling him.

"Of course." Zigûr's voice was perfectly flat.

Without touching her, the darkness parted and rose above her, allowing her to pass.

"Thank you." Tense and stiff in the back, Linaer watched his movements with a mixture of wariness and fascination, as she slowly approached her closet. She didn't trust him not to double-cross her.

Still trying to keep him in the corner of her eye, Linaer knelt before her closet. She just needed to find some nice shoes. Then she could show them to her mother, and then use shopping as an excuse to put as much distance as possible between herself and Zigûr.

"Nice shoes," she whispered under her breath. "Nice shoes, nice shoes, nice-" She reached into the closet plucking several shoes from the darkness.

"Talking to oneself is a hallmark of insanity."

Linaer turned and scowled at the former dark lord. "After letting you stay here, without attempting to do anything to you, I thought there couldn't be a doubt about my insanity-oh my goodness!" Linaer flung the hideous monstrosities disguised as shoes into the farthest corner of her closet. "Can you burn those?"

"I'm afraid I didn't see them."

"Good, good, good." Two pairs of white shoes, one brown, and one brown found their way into her pile. "Don't look for them, and you won't suffer any shoe induced nightmares for the next month and a half. And I don't suggest you go looking for them."

Linaer chewed her lip wondering if there was anything she was willing to show her mother. She reached for a pair of close toed black shoes before lowering her hand. The weather was too warm to even consider anything other than open toed shoes.

The shoes she'd chosen were fine, and she doubted her mother would have much to complain about. Her mother was overly fond of bight colours especially pink and thought the world of frills and lace, but she wasn't entirely tasteless all the time. Linaer considered her bedroom to be an exception. It was the result of years of lashing opinions and ideals. Her mother held to the notion that young men liked girly girls, which might be true in some cases, but from what she'd heard from friends married and unmarried that men lived in perpetual fear of frills.

Maybe if Sauron had gone to war with lace reams, disgruntled interior designers, and doilies instead of trolls, nazgul, and orcs he might have actually won. The image of a pink Minas Tirith was both horrific and amusing, and she couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped her.

"Is something amusing?"

Shaking her head, Linaer buried her face in her hands.

"Um," she found herself unable to look at the Dark Maia. "What do you think of the shoe selection?"

"Thou art doomed to fail. To convince thy mother that there is no need for any further shoe acquisition, it would be prudent to bring her shoes that she would find appealing: bright colours, complexity of design, flowers, etcetera. All of them are far too simple, and I doubt very much she'll find brown appealing even if the shoe is fairly complex by comparison to the rest."

"When did you become an expert in shoes?"

She heard a chuckle from behind her. "I'm flattered thou think me an expert of foot apparel, but I can assure thee that I am not."

With a huff Linaer put her selected shoes in the closet. "So would these be better?" She held up a pair of white closed toed things lined with white flowers.

"They're an improvement. Now what about that garish pair thou sent into the Void? I would think by thy reaction would be those be most fitting."

"Ugh!" Linaer grimaced with distaste. "You're kidding right?" She pouted, hoping for some modicum of sympathy that she knew she wasn't going to get. Mentally throwing her hands up and uttering an audible sigh she crawled into the closet, reaching into the back corner for her hideous shoes.

Her fingers landed on the mass of leather, lace, and rhinestones and she reluctantly pulled them out for Zigûr to inspect.

For several moments he was still and silent, before the inky darkness roiled as he shifted. "Thy mother must hate thee."

Well it wasn't the sympathy she had been hoping for, but at least they in agreement. "Um, yes…my mother had nothing to do with these. Elwin and pair of diabolical young cousins are behind these. They used to be lavender and less, um, less."

"Lavender? With all the additional decoration, that may have been-"

"Ridiculous. They would have been ridiculous. They might not have been as hideous, but-can I get rid of them now? Before my eyes melt and dribble out of my head if that's alright with you? Thanks." Without even waiting for an answer she flung the abominations back into the corner.

"I have no interest in sharing so small a quarter with such horrid company. Get them gone from there!"

"Oh?" Linaer scowled. "And where should I put, short of the fires of Mount Doom, which might not be enough?"

"I think the fires of Oroduin would suffice, though I suppose after throwing them in thou could consult a balrog for a second opinion. If there was still any uncertainty after that, a bit of dragon fire ought to take care of any surviving ash. All joking aside, I wish for them to be far removed from the closet."

"But I thought you were beyond pain?" Immediately Linaer realized she'd gone too far with that one. The air grew hot, and she scowled. "Alright, alright, I'll save you from the bloody shoes. Where would you like me to put them?"

"Somewhere beyond sight, sound, and remembrance."

"So you want me to send them into the actual Void? Get me a ship to Valinor and I'll see if Lord Manwe might be able to help." She withdrew the horrible footwear from her closet. "Do you suppose we'd be safe from them if they were buried under a pile of laundry?"

"The Void would be ideal, but under the circumstances a pile of laundry will have to do. Or thou could attempt a trek to Oroduin."

"A pile of laundry it is then." There was one far from the closet and far away from the bed, on the opposite side of the room that Linaer thought would serve. Zigûr backed away to give her extra room to move around him.

The shoes were swiftly buried and for added measure Linaer removed clothes and books, and other various items from other piles and added them to the mountain covering the shoes.

Linaer returned to the closet, and began sorting through her shoes, periodically asking Zigûr's opinion.

If it wasn't for the fact that the former dark lord was hovering over her shoulder the entire time, the silence would have been almost relaxed.

"Thou never answered my question."

The girl paused in her examination of a pair of shoes to look up at the dark ethereal mass. "What-oh. That question."

Closing her eyes, Linaer exhaled. Her mother was going to drag her to the bloody festival, especially since she'd told there was a prospective suitor supposedly meeting her, and she needed someone to fill in as the suitor. She didn't have many options. And maybe Zigûr really did want to out around people. Floating around unable to interact with the world or with people must have been horrible. She wondered if the Void wouldn't have been a kinder fate for him. At least in the Void he would have been far removed from the world, but he'd been forced to see it, unable to touch it or be a part of it. She pitied him. She actually felt bad for him. He didn't deserve pity from anyone. And he probably deserved worse than what he'd gotten, but at the same time…. Linaer was going to be in a lot of trouble if he ever realized how big of a mush-pot she was.

But then she'd overheard her uncle tell her father that…she bit her lip. She'd tried it the other way, with some success, but at the end of the day Linaer couldn't really change. Part of her didn't want to.

'She's soft Azerod, and one day she'll wind up being taken advantage of or worse.' At the time Linaer overheard that, she hadn't understood what they were talking about. The girl was mean with a frying pan in her hands. No one bullied her, because she'd a put a dent in the head of anyone that tried, but later, when she was older she'd realized what he'd meant.

Aggression and a frying pan weren't enough to protect her from herself. She trusted too easily and empathized too easily, and eventually she'd been taken advantage of just as her uncle had predicted. She'd hardened for a time: became more suspicious of other people's motives, but it was a painful existence- living in doubt of others. One she couldn't bear. Nor did she care to. So she kept herself soft, fought to maintain it, and at some point she would have paid for it, but it seemed the world was going to end before it came to that. The least she could do was show a fallen Maia to the last Light Festival she'd ever attend, and make her mother happy for the first time in a long time.

Another sigh escaped Linaer's lips. "I'll escort you."