Chapter Two: Her Light in Darkness

He did not have a place to live permanently, per se, and knew of no one that could handle her enigmatic ways, so Gandalf and Zerith set out the next day after their first meeting to find a home. Unfortunately not far ahead in their journey their only horse had spooked and bolted, leaving them to travel for weeks on foot. It was very dangerous, but the wizard kept them well concealed from any foes. Between travelling and resting, the two learned much about each other. The girl learned quickly that Gandalf was an Istari wizard, much to her surprise and befuddlement, but when she asked what she was, he responded with a typical 'when you are older'. The only response that differed was when she asked a similar question, or at least in her mind.

"Am I a monster?" Asked upon the route of following the River Loudwater upstream, she said it with little emotion, as though she were wondering something that had no emotional value. Her question made him give her a stern look that was replaced with comfort once he saw her hands move to her heart. "Monsters are caged to protect others. Is that where I will live? A cage?"

He contemplated her words, though he knew her question's answer. He just did not know why she would ask such a thing. She was unlike any other child who had little to worry about on the grand philosophical scheme of things, and she worried him greatly. However, he understood how she might feel. Alone, isolated, very frightened. It was evident in her eyes, even if her face became a cold, stone mask.

"You are a girl, a spirited one, and certainly not a monster. There is darkness everywhere across this land, passing over no one. You must remember that." He put a hand upon her shoulder, looking to the distant trees of the elves' lost kingdom behind them, knowing that they had come awfully far, and then looked down upon the girl, who had a soft smile on her face.

"Perhaps I will forget, but I have you to remind me of that when I do not have the willpower to." Her voice was a soft murmur that he heard for longer than it was spoken. "Anyway, never mind me, but where are we going, exactly?" She directed her question to him as they walked side by side, her inquisitive gaze observing the hilly land around them for anything unusual.

"There is a grove of trees where the two rivers here meet. I had once passed through here, and found an abandoned cottage at the intersection. A curious thing, for few humans make their homes close to elven lands. You will be well off, there." He kept his voice low, not trusting the open land after all that Thorin and his company had come across. It seemed like evil was appearing more and more in the most cut-off, desolate of places.

"Would I? Well, I suppose if it is abandoned and not close to anyone, it might be alright, but I thought this part of the land was populated with all sorts of creatures!" She shuddered, hopping over stones in their way as the old wizard followed steadily with his staff. "I believe too much in children's stories." The young girl laughed, rambling into idle, companion conversations.

When at last they came upon the intersection of the two roaring rivers Gandalf had spoken of, the two observed the area before them. The area surrounding the river was rocky and steep, cut by many years of water running through. It faded into dry grass and pine trees that spanned to just before the Trollshaws. It was certainly not the safest place, but the trolls would mind to the road and they would be alright, for a while, at least until he could think up some plan for what to do with the child. He could not take her to the elves, for they scorned all dragons for their greed and destruction. Men had proven that they were not trusting, and the dwarves were few and had too many problems concerning dragons already for lifetimes. It would be a lie to say that Gandalf himself fully trusted the girl. It was not her that made him wary, it was her soul, and its connection with evil. Melkor himself had created dragons for vile purposes, and the lines of darkness were tethered to that soul just like any dragon. Nienna in all her glory would feel undying pity for the child, and he did feel compassionate, but it was a gamble, a knife in the dark that could take the lives of many if Zerith was not taught to control herself. He was yet to tell her of what she was, because she seemed to know how much weighed down upon her and he did not want to bring more than what scorn and strife was already given. He would have to tell her sometime, but it was a conversation both of them were not ready for.

They approached the river, and to an overturned set of flat boulders that allowed for them to cross the river while remaining somewhat dry. Zerith was first, hiking her dress up to her knees and giggling with delight as her energetic feet were aptly hopping across before she came to a stop at the other side, patiently waiting for her elder. "That was fun," she exclaimed loudly, watching Gandalf's strides, "such a pretty river!" When he was near her, she let him take the lead through the dense forests, following carefully ahead through the tangle of roots. Her fear of the darkness in the mist kept her quiet as she kept close to him.

Just a little farther, a large patch of light shone upon a small, two story cottage. It was run down, weeds and other plants growing vividly surrounding it, however it looked like it had a strong structure and had been left untouched by anything that might meddle with it. Before they came any closer, Gandalf made the girl wait at the edge of the tree line so that he might take a closer look. Passing through the squeaky door, he glossed over the dusty wooden table and chairs before a long-cold fireplace, the creaking stairs which produced the upper level's three rooms, and to his surprise, found that most everything was furnished. This was decent, far better than what Zerith had previously had, anyway. Her family was one that had a habit of making too many drunken bets that they could not pay for.

Zerith smiled at him with relief once he beckoned her inside, and ran to his side to see what her new home was like. She did not mind the dust or cobwebs, and strangely began to clean the place. After given a lengthy eyebrow raise from her wizardly companion, she grinned with her back turned as she vigorously scrubbed at one of the bedroom's nightstands and offered a brief explanation. "The sooner it is cleaner, the sooner it is home." Yes, home, he thought. He would call it his home, though he knew he would not be able to be around as much as the girl would have liked. For the time being, though, it was the best the two of them would get.

-o-

A year's time had passed, and the two had found themselves to make the cottage a true place to live in. Gandalf stayed there for a while to watch the girl adjust to her new life. She longed for him to stay always and it was getting harder to come up with excuses for his lengthy trips away. One day, he returned from a visit in Rivendell to find the area eerily quiet. Calling out her name produced no reply, and he searched the whole nooks in crannies for the adolescent to no avail. When at last his anxiety was on edge, he heard the clashing of metal from the cellar below the main living area. There was no reason for her to be down there, and he raced to the lower stairs, fearing assailants had taken her. What he found was enough to puzzle him.

"Hyah!" The girl rallied a war cry, bashing the heavy shield she carried on her left arm at her enemy's hips. "Take that, you foe!" Slashing her sword at the shoulder, she ducked at a blow coming for her head and raised her shield in defense. "Fight me! I stand for all of us!" was triumph's shout in her voice, valiant words that boosted her speed.

In her mind, she imagined her rival dueling her viciously as she protected everything she cared for. She imagined how the world would be seen from a helmet, and how the ring of metal upon her armor would resound. She saw not in the straw-stuffed training dummy just what it was; it invoked visions of great battles to root out all evil. She was not a girl, but a great warrior that people would look up to. It was perfect in her brain but sadly did not equate to the real world.

Continuing her great battle against the battered dummy, Gandalf crept silently behind her, wondering what flooded her mind and gave her such an idea to do this. He could not suppress the chuckle that escaped his mouth, and immediately Zerith swung around, sword and shield flinging about as the wizard raised his staff to parry her frantic blow. Meeting his eyes as she saw he was no stranger come to fight her, she had a wild look and her long, free hair whipped about her face. Her look of mid-battle changed to embarrassment as he continued to laugh, and she stared into the dull metal of her sword for a long time before he recovered himself to inquire.

"Where did you find those? I know I did not bring them." She lay the old sword and shield at her feet, motioning towards a broken-in crate in the corner of the dank cellar. "You quite like to investigate things, Zerith, my dear girl." He smiled, though his eyes swam with worry. She had ideas that would never come true, dreams that were far-fetched. A life of battle wasn't what he wanted for her, and the dangers of it were too many.

"Where do you think I got that from?" She joked, picking up her weapons again. "At Minas Tirith, I saw the guardsmen once battling a thief who had a shortsword. My mother beckoned me not to watch as he would be given an imminent death, but I stood in awe as the guards fought, how there was grace and fluidity in their swings. I wanted to do that, to be part of something that defends. I know what you are thinking…" She met his gaze with anguish. "It is not my place. I am a woman, and we are supposed to do simple things. We bear children and raise them so that they might make something of themselves. This is not what I want. I will not be chained to someone or something. I want to be free from everything, to shape my life as I see fit." Her face and hands contorted in a look of fervid passion for what she felt. "It is not my place. When has anywhere ever been?" She whipped around to face the dummy, running the flat part of her blade upon a long cut she'd ripped out of the canvas.

"You have no use for this. Men would not accept you. Where would you fight if you were not a lone warrior?" He asked her with disapproval, coming to her side as she kept her eyes focused on the dummy. "It would mean certain death. You know this."

"And yet I persist." She interjected, looking at him from the corner of her eye. "What happens when you are gone and I'm alone? What happens when there is danger and you are not here? Unless you can magically appear at my side like lightning, then I would be finished." He heard the anger in her voice that she tried not to direct to him and he knew that she had a point, but watched as she was fatigued by holding the heavy weapons. Thirteen cycles of seasons had passed in her life, and though she was strong of heart, her arms could not bear the weight of such weapons at this age, not without rigorous training.

"You do not know how to fight. You can barely carry such weapons." He noted to her at his observation, and she shrugged off his words. Irritation was beginning to prickle in his voice. "You are not strong enough. Your body cannot handle such exercises constantly at your age."

"I am not afraid." She proclaimed angrily, turning to face him. "I am not afraid of pain, blood, or even death. To die in battle would be glorious, a worthy sacrifice." Her words were the most naïve she had ever been. With his staff, he swiped and brought her feet from right under her, leaving her to fall to the ground with a cry and let her sword clatter behind her. Her eyes were wide with surprise.

"Foolish, foolish!" He returned his staff to stand at his side in his grasp. "Do not tell me you are not afraid when you have not experienced any of those things. I will not bear to hear such words come out of your mouth. You cannot fight. You do not know what death truly is. You are not ready." Her eyes brimmed with tears out of frustration and her head bobbed as she swallowed the sting of them down that would curse her voice with their heaviness.

"Then teach me." Those were the words she said clearly though he wasn't sure he had heard them straight. "Teach me." She repeated, stronger and louder, rising to her feet and grabbing the sword. "You are right, but I am too, occasionally. I will not go off spinning dreams of battle in my head if you teach me." Her resolution was set in stone that had prophesied her coming, and he could not ignore the way she looked. Her stance was determined, her eyes spoke of fire, and her hands gripped her weapons so tightly. Her head was high, confident.

"It will be hard, long, daunting, and relentless. I will hear no complaining from you if you are colored with bruises to show for what you wish for." A single nod was his reply, and he rested his hand upon her shoulder in comfort and finalization.

-o-

His warnings were true, and even when her seventeenth year had passed, she still found herself black and blue from sparring with Gandalf. Still, her hard work had paid off. He had even found time to teach her elvish, and there was always a smile on her face on the days of her lessons. She was tall and willowy with a widened stance, and found that she could fight very well keeping a defensive stand with a sword and shield. However, when taking up the bow, it was rare for her to even come close to her mark, posture being too stiff when the string was drawn back. When she hunted and scouted the lands surrounding the cottage and came across prey that she would take down, she had to sneak very close just to have a slim chance. Gandalf found that he would spend less on meat and more on the arrows she had wasted with her poor aim.

She had changed so much, but so little. She had always had a look of determination in her face, and the two twin ragged scars on her left side of her face intensified it. What troubled Gandalf was how she had darkened. She would talk about things he had never told her or taught her about that were not in any of the books he kept around, and would give him the strangest of looks when talking about particular topics. He had feared this would happen, and berated himself on how little he had learned of Gostir and the prophecy of his return in her. He had never managed to travel to the site where the ancient words were carved into stone from the Valar above, for the journey was too long, but the time was soon approaching when he might have to.

-o-

"The girl does not know of what will come. I thought she would be better informed, my lord." A woman's voice throughout the darkness of Zerith's mind echoed. She sounded mature, ancient, and somehow she knew the woman to be an elleth.

"As did I, loyal one. It will begin soon. It will consume her, of this I have no doubt." Now an old man's, who was clearly superior to the other.

"But it will be too early for his return. People can be… resourceful. They will find a way. They know of Gostir's name."

"Silence. It will work, and even the Valar themselves will be in awe of how easily their playthings bend. Now, come, and we will talk to our master about what comes next." The man's voice faded, as did two pairs of footsteps, and Zerith was left in black silence.

A searing pain cut through her temple and chest as she woke from the dream in a cold sweat. When she saw a shadow over her, she reached for a weapon from behind her pillow, a knife, and brandished it towards the one who loomed over.

"Gandalf…" She whispered heavily, lowering her weapon as she whimpered in the pain that she tried to resist.

"Easy, now. Are you hurt? What happened?" He knelt by her bedside and took her clammy hand, and she found her words when the pain finally receded.

"I was asleep, and I had a dream. A man, and an elleth were speaking. I only heard their voices, I saw nothing but darkness. There was that name again. Gostir." She said her words slowly as Gandalf studied her face with concern. "It is always that name, no one else."

"There have been other dreams like this?"

"Strange dreams, yes, but not like this. When I woke up, there was terrible pain in my head and chest, like someone was tearing a hole out of me from inside." Shivering, she brought the blankets of her bed to her chin, and focused on her breathing as they fell into an uncomfortable silence. "Why is it always that name? You were the first person to tell me of it other than my parents. I do not understand." She muttered, looking to him for guidance.

"Always that name. I have never told you because you were not ready. I thought we both had time to sort things out. I have dreaded this day." His face was pained, and he could not look at her. He had no more words, but he had to finally tell her. The turning point had come, and neither of them were ready for it. To make up for his lack of words to give, he went and found his book on dragons that he had read that night in The Prancing Pony, and turned it to where it mentioned Gostir. She read it as though it might explain what was going on, but when the passage ended and it did not, she was filled with questions.

"Just tell me what this has to do with me." It was a simple, direct question she had settled on, and a tough one from the looks of it.

"The prophecy." He whispered, and yet she still stared on. "The soul of Gostir lies in you."

"Nothing else? You will offer me nothing else?" She stared at her bedroom window in disbelief. "Then I am a monster. Everything you told me was a lie, then? The fire I spurted out just because of this? Because I have a seemingly-dead dragon's soul in me, everything has happened because of it? People hate me, I feel strange, have these dreams, and everything else? How could you not tell me?" Her face which once offered calm tranquility was wet with tears. "That is why everyone hates me. It is the reason for everything in my life! It all makes sense, but they did not slay me as they should have. Child or not, I am just a-"

"You are not a monster, but terrible things may come to you if we do not find some way to protect you from it. I am sorry, Zerith. I have had so long to figure out how to prevent this from happening, and I have found little." His eyes were weary and voice haggard.

"What does this mean, then? What does this mark the beginning of?" It had become easier for him to answer her questions now that she knew. A great burden was lifted off of him and placed on her.

"You are more susceptible to darkness, now. Do you know who created dragons?"

"Melkor," she replied, remembering her countless days and nights spent reading and learning everything there was to know. "So, I am connected to Melkor somehow? That is comforting."

"Perhaps. None can escape his pull, nor of their vices. Gostir attempted to, but living in the Ered Lithui must have taken its toll on his will to resist such dark allure. Secrets lay in those mountains…" Gandalf paced around the room with his companion's eyes following.

"That is not good." She grumbled worriedly pulling back the blankets and crossing her legs. She repeated those words to herself over and over before finding something better to say. "So, what exactly does this mean for me? Since I breathed fire, I suppose that is one thing. Does this mean I have an inborn ability like fire-breathing dragons do or something? Does it say something in this book about it?" Tapping the front cover, she watched his pacing.

"You ask questions that I do not have an answer to, and for that, I apologize." He sat on the edge of her bed and studied her face. "Tell me, what did you feel that day that spouted fire from your breath?"

She closed her eyes, searching deep inside her mind, past the happy days the two of them shared in her new life, past the laughter of an afternoon telling stories and sharing experiences, to the times when her memory was monochrome; there, she found the rage and pride that threatened to alienate her upon that day when the hammer crashed down upon the anvil. She recounted their words, how they were fire, and how much they burned her, with their laughter and smiles that shattered her patient temper. Gathering every emotion, she spoke as if she were in a dream. "Their words were sharp knives and I lost myself. Every ounce of me fell apart that day to rebuild into someone who was not me. My thoughts, my words, not my own. How dare they come to a place of my refuge and respite and intrude upon my peace! All at once when I tried to use calm words despite boiling anger, my voice uttered something that I had never heard before, and turned into the burning inferno. Luckily it lasted for only a second, for my panic brought me out of my spell. I felt the fire still long after it had passed, how it had touched my lips and not burned me, and I liked the way the children screamed and practically bowed down to miss my rampage." Her midnight blue eyes swam in shame and her voice rose an octave with every sentence. "I do not know who I had become. I do not know who I am now. I am not the Zerith I once was, and I do not think I can overcome this invisible force that wants to destroy me." With her last words, they sat in silence, watching each other, waiting for someone to speak. "You know I will try my best, but I am not strong enough…"

"You are strong enough to battle anything," Gandalf encouraged, but it was a lie. To battle a dragon from her mind was something no one could defeat. It was not simply another Smaug come to steal treasure and burn everything in his wake, this was a soul who desperately wanted out. There was no way to fight some monster of the mind, something that he barely knew about. He felt for the girl—woman—he had saved from living a life as a pariah, but now he would lose her so easily. "There must be some way to fix this."

"Gandalf," a question peaked the woman's interest. "You could not have been the only one to research on Gostir. I mean, I know there was the people from the Iron Hills, but certainly someone else must have wanted to know more? If that' is the case, maybe we could find them and see if they have dug up anything to help us." It was a shot in the dark, an attempt at regaining her light in darkness that would fade by the days.

He grinned at the thought, and wondered why he could have forgotten such a thing. "I believe there was one elleth who stuck her nose into more than her kind liked out of her, though that was a very long time ago. Her name was Uirien, and she had started her research just after word spread of the prophecy. She was too spirited, as I heard. The elves spoke little of her, but it would be best to search the South Downs for any signs of her."

"The South Downs? She would not be with other elves?"

"She much preferred to observe other races, but disliked isolation so she stayed close to others. Her Elf-magic was strengthened by her abundance of knowledge, but at the price of having a weak mind."

"A weak mind?"

"Yes, she was prone to corruption and darkness, for knowledge has a price and she was willing to pay it."

"You mean she is dead?"

"No, not dead. It would do her no good." Examining the ends of his sleeves, his eyes reflected great memory. "Much different from her kind, though. It would take us a few days to reach her, though you seem ill."

"Ill?" She laughed breathlessly. "Not physically, but there is a battle raging on that is not doing wonders for my soul, I can tell you that." Her smile did not quite have him fooled.

"Your soul is not your own." He grimly reminded, and her smile deepened as she marked the beginnings of him developing pessimism.

"Gostir is a part of me that you cannot simply replace. Who would I be but a cold, tranquil being without his fire? Without his attitude? His faults? Everyone has some darkness in them. You are the one who has taught me that, and if we can find some way to let it not consume me, that would be fine, too." Her sorrow had faded from her eyes and was replaced with determined fire, and he saw from what she said that part of it was his determined fire. He could imagine how her wings would fly if she were him, how she would pity man and long for freedom from invisible chains that Melkor and The Necromancer pulled. Now, he must free her from them, lest she be dragged down into the depths of moral sickness and corruption.

Author's Note: Yay, chapter 2 is up! I will try to upload a chapter every Sunday or so unless something comes up, which will be noted. Hope you enjoyed, and remember to check next week!