A/N- Just so that you know, this is an AU fic with Tolkienite mythology, not a crossover fic. Thanks to Ravensgryff for betaing, she did a lovely job. I only own the bits you don't recognize.

Prologue

December 16, 1979

It was a cold, grey day in London; the sleet outside was more miserable than the worst snowstorm. The few people out shopping before Christmas huddled in heavy winter coats; they scurried quickly from building to building, not wanting to be caught in the miserable weather for very long. There was one building to which few people went. Granted, it did not have the flashy air of some of the shops in the classier areas of London, and it was older looking, but more than that, it was an orphanage.

On that dreary December day, Mrs. Hunts, the lady in charge of said orphanage, settled herself in her office with a cup of tea and a newspaper. Nothing of much importance was going on in the world at that time, save for a few more mysterious disappearances that had the police completely stymied. Odd things like that seemed to be getting more frequent, she noted. However, she didn't let it bother her in the least because nothing could upset her safe little world. Yes, because they were trapped inside, the orphans were a little restless, but it was nothing that her staff couldn't handle. She felt secure in the knowledge that nothing would invade her peace unless one of the orphans had an accident of some sort. She had no appointments scheduled for today, and it wasn't likely that anyone would be stopping by in this weather. So, she rested.

Outside, cold grey slowly dissolved to frosty darkness. The streets were practically empty for the shoppers had gone to their warm homes; the few brave remainders hastened against the freezing rain.

Had Mrs. Hunts chanced to look outside, she would have noted a single figure moving slowly and aimlessly; she would have seen that figure shambling awkwardly, stopping occasionally as if in pain. Another figure stopped to help the first, and after what seemed to be a short conversation, the second figure supported the first and began moving in the direction of the orphanage.

Mrs. Hunts heard a knock at the door. She had no idea who on earth would want to come to the orphanage at this time, in this weather, but knew that it must be something relatively important that would necessitate her presence. She rose and moved across to the door of her office, noting as she opened it that worried voices traveled to her from the direction of the entrance hallway. Upon leaving her office, she was surprised to see a heavily pregnant woman, probably in labour, being supported by Bertha Giles, one of the orphanage assistants. Of course, that wasn't much of a surprise seeing as they helped quite a few pregnant women who couldn't make it to a hospital.

What was startling was the woman's appearance. She wore a deep blue gown with voluminous sleeves cut in a fashion that had not been commonly used for centuries. Over that, she had a dark green cloak fastened at the neck with a silver brooch. Strangest of all was a white gem around her neck that seemed to shine with a light of its own; the light seemed to reveal in greater clarity the wornness of the woman's pale face and the darkness of her hair. Her eyes, as stormy and grey as the sea, were now filled with immeasurable pain.

The woman seemed to fight for breath for a moment before whispering, "Can you help me?" so quietly that the other women barely caught it.

Mrs. Hunts nodded in reply and said, "Of course dearie, you've come to the right place."

The strange woman looked far more relieved than such a simple statement warranted, but the other women were brought back to the present moment when she was seized by a contraction. Mrs. Hunt ordered Bertha to go and collect the aides who usually helped with this sort of thing, and proceeded to help the woman to a room where she could give birth to her child.

A few hours later, the woman rested comfortably in a small, clean room and held a small black-haired bundle in her arms.

"Have you decided a name for her yet?" Mrs. Hunts asked kindly. The woman had put her name, and the child's father's name, on the small girl's birth certificate, but had made no move yet to enter the name of her child.

"Yes," she said finally, with a smile. "She shall have my name, and her grandmother's name."

She wrote down the name on the birth certificate, and Mrs. Hunts worriedly noticed that it seemed to take her much more effort than it should have.

"How are you feeling?" she asked with some trepidation. She knew the woman would probably be quite tired, but nothing should have caused this almost deathly fatigue.

The woman did not answer for a moment. "Will my child be taken care of here?"

Mrs. Hunts had not expected such a reply, and sat down in a chair by the bed. "Of course," she said softly. "She may stay here if you don't want her."

The woman's grey eyes searched Mrs. Hunts' kind brown ones, a single tear trailing down her face. "It's not that I don't want her. I am dying and I need to know that she will be safe. You may not be able to understand it, but I began dying from the moment she was conceived, and wished for nothing but time enough for her to be born." She paused, her words coming with greater difficulty with each passing minute. "I want her to be safe." The woman reached up to her neck and took off the necklace with the gem. "Take this, and give it to my daughter when she is old enough to wear it. Someday she will understand all that it means." Weakly, she pressed the gem into the older woman's hand. She then lay there for a few moments, just watching her sleeping child.

A few tears slid silently down Mrs. Hunts' face at the image before her. Here was a woman, willing to give up everything for the sake of her child ; she was such a strange contrast to most of the girls that came here: girls that had made decisions and later regretted them, girls who had not wanted to live with the consequences of their actions. Yet, this woman had fought for nine long months for the strength to carry her child, so that her child could have something she was, even now, giving up—life. Most wouldn't be willing to make such a sacrifice.

"She will be great," the woman whispered softly. "If only I could have been able to see her grow, as a mother ought." She whispered a few more words to the infant in a language that Mrs. Hunts had never heard before. Then, ever so quietly and softly as to be barely noticeable, the woman died. Some pass in torment and pain, but she was one of the blessed few who slip as gently into death as into sleep.

With a few tears running down her face, Mrs. Hunts carefully took the infant from her mother's arms and looked at her for a moment. She seemed to have an unearthly beauty and an aura of light around her. With a sigh and a prayer, Mrs. Hunts finally left to see about burial arrangements and to take care of the child.

Eleven years later…

"Come on, Sara, we don't have much time. Your new parents will be here any moment and you must be ready!" A harassed young woman looked up the staircase to the upper floor and called again. "Sara, are you finished packing yet? The Nelsons are due to be here any moment and you need to be down here to greet them!"

"Just a moment, I can't find my socks," a girl's voice replied from upstairs. "I'll be there in a second, Miss Amberly."

Miss Amberly, so the young women was called, sighed and sat down in a chair by the stairs, looking into a mirror on the wall as she did so. She was short, and slender, with brown hair pulled back to keep it out of her way and kind brown eyes. At the moment she looked older than her thirty years due to exhaustion; she had stayed up late the night before helping Sara pack, and the girl had still managed to lose something. A thought occurred to her; it was slightly ironic that an orphan with so few belongings could still manage to take hours to find them all. That Sara, she thought with a smile, always losing things and getting ahead of herself.

With a whole houseful of orphans to run, Miss Amberly had little time to spare on the ones lucky enough to be adopted. When she had graduated from the university six years ago as a social worker, she had had bright dreams about being a mother figure to the poor orphans. She had never wanted, nor had the opportunity, to marry and have children of her own; there were already too many homeless children . She made it her mission in life to bring them brighter lives. Six years ago, she had dreamt of herself as a shining heroine with a sweet smile coming to bring hope to those who had none. Now, after four years of working as the head of this orphanage, she still tried to bring a smile into these orphans' lives, but also realized that sometimes the orphans needed more than just a smile; they needed homes. Although the orphanage was a safe place for them to grow up, providing almost everything that they needed, it was too grim a place to be ever called a home, even though the orphans did. For some, it was a safer place than where they had been before; for others, it was the only place they had to go to. And, for a small select few, it was all they had ever known.

So, day after relentless day, Miss Amberly and the rest of the staff cared for the orphans as best as they could, worked tirelessly trying to find parents for the orphans who needed them so desperately, and attempted to make the orphanage a better place for those who lived there.

Miss Amberly was disturbed rather abruptly from her thoughts at the sight of a small, blonde girl running down the stairs excitedly. She leapt up and admonished the girl with a small smile. "Sara! Please do be careful on the steps; you don't really want your new parents to have to take you to the hospital immediately, do you?"

Sara merely giggled, and jumped down the last few steps to where Miss Amberly now stood.

"I'm being adopted today! Isn't it exciting? I'll have a family now!"

Miss Amberly's face softened and she replied, "That you will, you lucky girl. You know, we'll miss you, but now you must sit nicely because the Nelsons are due to arrive at any moment and we can't have you jumping about like a frog."

The girl and the woman sat down by the stairs, Sara fidgeting impatiently and Miss Amberly sitting primly in her chair. After a few minutes wait, the doorbell rang and Sara leapt up as quickly as Miss Amberly had a second ago, although for a much better reason.

"They're here! They're here!" The little girl exclaimed, jumping up and down in her excitement. Meanwhile, Miss Amberly crossed the worn hall and opened the door to usher the waiting couple inside. The Nelsons were a middle-aged couple with a kind and caring air about them. Unable to have children of their own, they had chosen to adopt, after being charmed by Sara about a year ago. After much paperwork and court business, they had finally finished the process and were able to bring Sara home. Mr. Nelson was a benevolent looking man with the slight air of an absentminded professor. Mrs. Nelson, who was now gathering Sara's things with Miss Amberly's help, was the sort of lady who looked as though she ought to have had dozens of children. Sara would have a good home with them, thought Miss Amberly as she bid farewell to the girl and her new family. She closed the door behind the couple and the happily chattering girl. Yes, indeed, she was very lucky to have found such a family.

Miss Amberly sighed and went into her private study to finish some paperwork for another child. Sara had been lucky, but there was still so much work to do. Her job was never finished.

Unknown to her, another girl who had been lurking at the top of the stair echoed her sigh and headed back to her room. Yes, she thought, some did have all the luck.