Disclaimer: none of the characters you recognize belong to me.

Thanks to my beta for this story: The Hobbit Ivy. I had published this a while ago, but I noticed afterwards that quite a lot of mistakes had escaped my attention, so I decided to correct this story.

- 1 / An Unlikely Saviour -

'You cannot be serious!' exclaimed Varda, pacing agitatedly in Valinor's highest Hall. Her husband shot her a wary look. 'I merely tell you what He has instructed!' he protested, but she glared at him, and he remembered why Melkor, their abhorred brother, had feared her so.

Aulë, who was nonchalantly propped against a carved pillar, looked vaguely amused.

'But it is unfair!' protested Varda, Queen of the Stars, and Manwë grimaced.

'All I know is that an… adequate… female must be found, brought into Arda, and sent to Imladris.'

Ulmo raised an eyebrow: 'That can't be that difficult!' he drawled, which earned him a dark look from the King of the Valar for his insubordination.

'Like you care!' grumbled Manwë, returning to his throne.

'Adequate for what?' asked a soft voice, and Manwë recognized it as belonging to Yavanna, Aulë's spouse.

Everyone was looking at him now and he sighed, rubbing his temples. 'For saving one of the last Noldor.'

'The Noldor have sealed their fate long ago, remarked Mandos dryly from the entrance of the Hall, and the Valar stepped aside, out of the reach of his black cloak, allowing passage to the darkest Lord, Judge of the Dead. 'They have incurred everything that has happened to them.'

'So it may be,' agreed Manwë, 'But this one is… particular. You should know,' he added, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. 'For it is Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower that I speak of.'

'What has he gotten himself into this time?' sighed the Judge.

'Well, it appears that you are to see him soon – again - if we fail,' answered Manwë. 'He is weary, and his will to live is growing thin. He is dying. And,' – he lifted an elegant finger – 'We cannot allow it. It appears that he is still needed in Arda; he has one task yet to accomplish in the events to come.'

'And how will a woman help the matter?' inquired Oromë, who had not spoken yet.

'He must be given a reason to live' came the answer, whispered by Nienna from the darkest corner of the Hall.

'But you requested my presence,' said Mandos, raising a dark eyebrow. 'What is it that you need me for?'

Varda huffed indignantly. 'You see, if the chosen one is not in Arda, she will be brought by force,' she sneered. 'Through death.'

'Wait,' backed off the dark Vala, 'I am no executioner!'

'And I am no matchmaker!' snapped Manwë. 'Find her: the one who can keep the Golden One alive for as long as his life is needed, find her and bring her to Imladris.'

Mandos looked at his King in disbelief, but had no choice but to bow in obedience. 'If such is indeed the will of Eru Ilúvatar, I submit to his wisdom.'

The Valar left the Hall one by one, and Manwë glanced at his wife, who scowled and walked off in a flurry of skirts. He sighed wearily. Yes, he'd rather face Melkor.

***

From his unearthly prison, Melkor smiled. So this was the plan of his ancient comrades to save Middle-Earth, a plan so fragile that a dying man's last breath could extinguish the hope forever.

He had been diminished, that much was true, and cast away into the void through the Door of Night, but his hatred for all that is pure remained potent, and he summoned all his will to help him mar the plan invented by Eru Ilúvatar and the Valar. As the possibilities unfolded before his eyes, he felt a surge of joy in his black heart, for this time, the elves would cause their own undoing, their reputed courage and strife for wisdom a dagger in their heart.

Hidden from the Valar, his spirit flew between worlds, spying on the search for the one who would save the Balrog slayer from his untimely and sad death. His time would come soon.

***

Seena woke with a start, drenched in sweat, and wriggled in panic for an instant, fighting with her tangled covers and trying to remember where she was. Finally it dawned upon her that she was safe, that what she had just witnessed had only been a figment of her imagination; a bad dream.

Breathing heavily, she lay back, wrapping herself up again in the now less-evil blanket, and glanced at the alarm clock: a quarter to seven, which meant she was meant to rest for another precious fifteen minutes; she knew, however, that she wouldn't fall asleep again, and reluctantly climbed out of her bed. Best to get to work early, and leave earlier as well, she mused.

Pulling on her clothes, she searched absentmindedly for a necklace, when her eyes fell on her fake One Ring, glinting softly, almost beckoningly on its golden plated chain. Funny, she thought, I don't remember leaving it here… On the other hand, she was everything but a tidy person, so finding her things in unusual places did not come as a surprise to her. Her fingers reached out unconsciously for the jewel, and she slipped the cool metal chain around her neck, not quite registering her gesture.

Forty minutes later, Seena stared absently at the other side of the road, her mind still half awake. At this early hour, the streets were empty and silent, and the grey sky was only starting to fade into a more cheerful, pink shade. The air was cool, and Seena wrapped her arms around her to keep herself warm. This was to be the first day of her last week of internship, and then, the long-awaited holidays. Her heart sung in anticipation of the time where she no longer needed to get up at dawn for an hour-long ride to work, crammed in dirty, smelly buses with equally half-asleep, grumpy people. Frowning, she pulled her iPod out of her pocket, and soon the familiar tunes were humming in her ears. Gods, she hated crowds.

"You're part of the game

You're slave to the grind

Oblivion

Is your key to the Otherland

You're part of the game

You're cursed

You're damned

By now you understand"

Seena realized suddenly that the traffic light had long gone from red to green and, yawning widely, she stepped on the crosswalk. Suddenly, she felt the light weight of the necklace on her skin disappear, as the chain links scattered around. The fake ring bounced off the ground, catching the rising sun, and finally stilled in the middle of the road. Cursing, she bent down to pick it up. There goes a good chain, perfectly new… The traffic lights on the street flickered, and went out, all at the same time, as if an invisible hand had pulled the plug.

Seena did not hear the truck arrive, did not hear the blaring of the horn nor the screech of the brakes until it was too late: she looked up, and saw the driver's white, terrified face twisted in an effort to stop his engine. Somewhere below the clouds of slumber, her instincts screamed for her to run, to jump, to do something for self-preservation, but all she had the time to do was flinch away, trying foolishly to protect herself with her arms. She felt the impact, but no pain was felt.

Opening her eyes, her vision blurry, Seena saw the sky, clear and bright, so very close, so very beautiful. Somewhere far, far away a siren howled, and a shadow moved in front of her eyes. She tried to wave it off, her arms were heavy, so heavy… She felt tired, and as darkness claimed her she thought she could sleep for an eternity.