*I don't own Jane and the dragon or its characters

I think the Chamberlain is smarter then he appears to be. I mean past the worry, and exasperation, I think he takes the time to notice details nobody else would care to bother with. He's a good guy, and I wish we could have seen part of his back story. If only the show had more seasons. Oh well.

As of Nov 29, 2020 this chapter was edited for clarity, to fix spelling and grammar, as well as other errors.

Chapter 6: A Light in the Darkness

By evening, the Chamberlain paced about the yard. Smithy had just finished the repairs on Sir Theodore's armor and noticed Jane's father was more troubled than usual. "Sir are you alright? Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Oh Smithy, I almost did not see you there. My trouble you ask, it is about Jane. She left on horseback earlier in the day and now it is evening with a storm practically upon us. Truly this is terrible, she should have returned ages ago."

Smithy thought so too. If she had been with Dragon then there would have been no problem, but Dragon was busy courting a cow a few towns over, leaving him only so much time to spend with Jane. During his visits, he either teased her or ate whatever disgusting recipe was unfit for the royal family. Without Dragon around, there was cause for worry. "Shall I send for the knights?"

"Heavens no. They are exhausted from the hunt, and it would not bid well."

The only knight available would have been Gunther since he took over Sir Theodore's post, but the castle could not be left defenseless. "I would not recommend your traveling alone Sir, you may get lost in the darkness."

The Chamberlain examined the blond youth, whose strength from heavy lifting and swinging a hammer gave him the appearance of someone not to be reckoned with. Jane may not appreciate his meddling, but something had to be done. "I am far too old for this kind of matter, and I would rather avoid an argument if it can be helped," he coughed, "which is why I am sending you."

"Sir?"

"You are the last person to have seen my daughter. She would not take well to my…spying."

"Of course Sir."

Like the last time, when he was a bundle of nerves, the blacksmith made himself available like a friend. "I trust you will bring her back safely."

"I will."

There were other things he would later have in store for the blond youth, but this task alone held higher importance. A warmth, a quiet worry, they passed over those fair eyes. It did not pass the worried father's notice of the quiet concern hidden underneath the blacksmith's lashes. Surprisingly enough, this was not so worrying as the roving eyes of the jester, or the cold calculation of the merchant, but he would be cautious, even if only from a distance.

She had lost track of time.

The afternoon had been most agreeable, with its share of berry bushes, and warm breezes. The focus on the road, as well as traveling away cleared her mind for a time, but now as she woke, with the darkness upon her, she felt sillier than ever. Gone are the days when she fled from defiance, here were the days she dealt and fought them face forward, even if one step at a time. The boom of thunder was approaching, and Jane hoped she could reach the castle without too much trouble. "Bravery, let us go home."

Her ears flicked this way and that way, then she froze. Jane urged her to move, but she stood firmly grounded. "What is the matter? By now, my father must be worried sick."

Streaks of lightning made it like daytime in the night, and again Bravery stood still. "Come on," she groaned, "this has gone on long enough, we must go if we are to avoid the rain."

What Jane did not know was that her mare was listening but to someone other than her owner. She would know that voice anywhere, and this encouraged the chestnut creature to trot, and then from trot to a full gallop. The voice of her friend, of her dear one, she would follow. Over and over, she heard the name, she heard him calling. If she could answer, if she could speak, it would be of the appreciation which sprouted in its appropriate time.

As though death was on their tails, Jane could not imagine what had triggered the response in her horse, but she was grateful. The power and speed alone were indicators of good breeding, and this she would have to remember to thank Smithy for. "You know better, for you know what is waiting for us."

Where could she be? Was she hurt? Or worse?

With all the exertion, as well as the yelling, his throat felt raw. His lungs, his mind, his heart worried for her. If he yelled himself hoarse, even mute it would not be enough if he could not find his dear one. "JANE! JANE WHERE ARE YOU?!"

Light rain was nothing to the storms in his heart. The scent of earth and sky normally refreshed him, but this time they were the reminder of his jealousy. Him, the most mature, level headed of the staff jealous? Yes, he felt it but figured it was nothing more than the foolishness which accompanied those before the bloom of youth. Once he passed the age of nineteen or twenty those sentiments were already tainting his peace.

It took a week's worth of reasoning to get over the envy and anger felt when Jester was near, even longer when Gunther caused him grief and dare consume her form with those desperate storm colored eyes. If only Smithy did not care, it would make things much easier. Heavy-hearted with self-pity, he loathed the fluctuance of youth. Life was never easy, and it will continue to test him, but not as much as this.

Gusts and drizzle slowly dampening his wavy strands. Lightning appeared like cracks in the sky, and he woke up from that darkness which touched him from time to time. All around him, surrounded by the darkness of night, and he saw a flicker of her in his mind's eye. Renewed worry strengthened his conviction. He could not fail, and there was no excuse, he would find her. The carthorse, Brutus, could easily gallop with as much vigor and spirit as a thoroughbred in his hands; which was impressive even to the blacksmith.

A voice unlike his own came from his throat and called for his shining lady in the darkness. "JANE! JANE WHERE ARE YOU?!"

With trembling hands on the reins, he urged his emotions to settle, while he urged Brutus to sniff her out. If anything had happened to her, surely he would be driven to madness. "Do not let me lose her."

Thunderclaps, he did not fear them, neither did rain or lightning strike such fear, but if she was lost or hurt, he did not dare want to think of such things. "Please Brutus, I am putting my trust in you. She is out there, and we need to find her before the storm does."

A light in the darkness, or so she thought. Could it be possible anyone was half-mad enough to dare venture this far, this late, in such weather? She squinted, pinching her cheek, and the pain as well as the light very much there. Jane thought to ignore it, but the nagging guilt of not helping those in need convinced her otherwise. Again she saw it, the flickers of light.

Whoever was ready to catch their death, was either friend or foe. With a tug to the reins, Bravery stopped, her cry the kind fit for battle. Slowly, but surely, she heard some sounds heading in her direction. The sounds became a voice, the voice belonging to a friend. It was Smithy, his hair flat and dampened by some rain he had encountered. "Smithy? SMITHY!"

Never had words been so endearing, so healing, and treasured as those as his name. Goodness, this woman drove him into half madness already, and he could not help it. "Jane? JANE!"

What he would have given to hold her close, to know he was not hallucinating. Instead, he pinched himself. Her eyes clouded with confusion, searched his face for answers. "What, why," she shivered, "why are you here? What are you doing? Are you a fool?"

He could have been clever, but instead, he hung his head. She continued. "You...you are mad, and will catch your death in this weather."

"I…" he swallowed, "I was sent by your father. He was worried by your lateness."

"Why did he not come himself?"

"Because he respects you."

Which was what she wanted, but she could not help but be a bit disappointed. Unlike her mother, her father had been open-minded, even if reluctant, and gave her the necessary space, but she supposed there were allowances for such concern. Meanwhile, Smithy reached inside his saddlebag and found the blanket he had packed. And without asking, he placed it about her shoulders, his face unreadable.

The comfort felt was immediate and she was thankful for his forethought. Oh, but why did he have to get so close? Jane was sure she smelled dreadful. Yet, this had to be one of the few times she was grateful they both smelled of horse, though she detected hints of mint in his breath.

Smithy bit his tongue until he tasted blood, for he nearly drew her close; oh how he wished he could, but he did not. However, in his thoughts he already had. In reality, he was careful, for she could kill him if she felt threatened, and was aware of the deathly blows she could administer. The warmth of bodies, of combined breath, and hearts; there was honesty in the wind and reassurance in his ways that made her feel good and the reluctance in the hands that placed the blanket on her shoulders seemed so inviting. Smithy cursed silently to himself and hardened his heart, enough to continue. "Your father respects you too much to dare upset you, so he sent me instead. He thought yo-"

"Would think he was spying? I already knew, and it warms my heart that he cares."

She pulled the wool blanket closer. "His job is so stressful, yet he takes time out to care for my needs. I allow him at least that much to pretend I do not notice."

Lightning streaked the sky with its warnings. This was not the time to talk, for they could do that later. "I think we should be going. The rain has stopped," he explained. "but it will not hold off for long."

With a nod, she agreed before leading the way, and he allowed it. Their ride back was silent except for the thunder, but the sense of gloom still hung between them.