Nimoë watched in horror as Raven moved, faster than light, it seemed. With a quick twist he had pulled himself away from the dangerous point at his neck, and his own sword was unsheathed, pushed hard against Legolas' stomach.
How did he do that? There is no better fighter than Legolas! There was no time to ponder. Legolas had raised his sword again, and the looked ready to slash the Hobbit's head from his shoulders. Raw anger read clearly on both faces, the fair and the dark, and Nimoë leapt forward, pushing aside the blades of the swords. "Peace! Shed no blood over me! I am not worth the effort."
She turned to face the Hobbit, who she had heard Legolas call Raven, in an attempt to reason with him. "I understand your concerns, Raven," she said. With a small shrug, she admitted, "In fact, I share many of them."
Raven backed up a pace and stared up at her, his dark eyes boring through her in a most uncomfortable fashion. She could feel Legolas' gaze upon her, but she ignored him for the time being. Holding herself as straight as she could, determined to show no fear, she continued. "I myself have wondered if I have the strength to do what is necessary, and I have a proposal. Before setting out on this quest, I wish to undergo a test."
The Hobbit narrowed his eyes marginally, and nodded. "That is reasonable. I will not venture forth with one untested. It is folly to do such a thing."
Nimoë felt Legolas' hand on her shoulder, and she turned to face him. His eyes registered worry, as he asked, "What do you mean, Nimoë? What kind of a test? You have already proven to me your skill with the bow, and your competence with a short sword. You need not prove yourself further."
"Nay, Legolas," she agreed. "Not with weapons. I can hardly claim to be a master of either, but I can hold my own. I am speaking of the Elfsong. My memories are only just surfacing, and I want to be sure that I can master the powers I will need. I was not taught any skill of this nature."
Raven sheathed his sword. "That I encourage strongly. What sort of a test do you propose?"
Nimoë looked about at the landscape, searching for something that might require near to the amount of strength needed to seal the Chasm. At last her eyes fell on the eastern slopes of the Mountains of Shadow. With her finger she pointed, "Do you see the place where the stone has given way? Where an avalanche ripped down most of the wall?"
Legolas nodded, but the other two stared at her incredulously. Gilmin laughed into his beard. "I have heard of the unnaturally strong senses of the Elves, but I had thought them exaggerated. I see I was mistaken. There is no way I could hope to see details at such a distance. I see only a dark blur, which I know to be mountains simply by my knowledge of geography."
Nimoë nodded her decision. "I will repair the damage. I will send the stones back to where they came from."
"Indeed a great feat, if it can be managed, Lady," said Raven. "But I will not trust your word. We must journey nearer, to where the rest of us can see what takes place. If you can return the cliff wall to the way it was before the avalanche, I will trust in your powers. If you cannot, I will not travel with you. A different attack must be planned." His voice clearly carried the weight of his disbelief, and he was surely ready to be disappointed.
Legolas stared at his wife, her shoulders tense with worry and determination. "Do you believe you can do it?" he whispered.
"I must believe it, or we are all doomed."
Several hours passed, and the two Elves, along with Gilmin and Raven, stood on a low rise, looking out over the ruined wreckage of the cliff wall. The journey had been long, but they moved with speed, knowing time was of the essence. They had chosen not to proceed far enough to be in danger, should anything go wrong, but the Dwarf and the Hobbit could clearly see all that would transpire from their nearby perch.
Along the way, Legolas had explained to Nimoë that the two newcomers would join them on the quest, over Raven's mutterings of "We'll see." Gilmin seemed to ignore the young Hobbit's rudeness and brusque nature. It was as if he expected nothing different.
Legolas pondered once again on the quirk of fate that brought the two to Núrnelven, just as they were about to set out on their quest. It smacked of intervention, and he forced himself not to hope that perhaps the Valar knew what was happening, and they wished it to come out right. If that was the case, surely they would simply deal with Morgoth within the void, leaving the rest of creation out of the battle.
He looked over to Nimoë and saw that she had closed her eyes. Her eyelids twitched with concentration, and her body was rigidly still. Almost without warning, she began to sing. This was no gentle song, like the healing touch had been, nor was it pleading, as it had been when she had summoned the Eagle. This was something entirely different.
At the resonant power and rock-hard command in her voice, he almost found himself pulled towards the cliff wall, drawn by forces so intense that they were almost undeniable. With quick eyes he saw that Gilmin and Raven were similarly effected, and he put his hands out, gripping the two by the shoulders, exerting all his strength to combat the power of Nimoë's song.
Before them, the pile of rubble at the base of the cliff began to shift, a terrible grinding, screeching sound punctuating the pops and bangs of boulders unseating themselves from comfortable resting places, inexorably drawn back up the towering cliff, defying the very force of gravity. Heavy clouds of dust soon blocked their view of the base of the wall, but the sight of boulders the size of houses flying upwards was enough to awe any skeptic.
Legolas clung to the Dwarf and the Hobbit, concentrating on resisting the draw of the song, which pulled at them like a maelstrom. Gilmin trembled, but Raven remained motionless, holding his fear, if he felt any, completely hidden.
After many minutes, the entire rubble field had resettled itself on the cliff wall, knit with new bonds, stronger than those of nature. As soon as the dust began to settle, Nimoë ceased her song and crumpled to the earth, unconscious.
A familiar voice broke into the haze of exhaustion that clouded Nimoë's mind. Forcing herself to open her eyes, she saw the deeply concerned blue gaze of Legolas. My husband! Unable to move her limbs, she whispered, "Did I succeed?"
Hearing her voice seemed to give him relief, and some of the worry fled from his face. "You did. You have moved the very rocks of Middle-Earth. Never did I think to see such power." His voice held a breathless awe, but it quickly changed to concerned attention. "Can you move?"
Nimoë closed her eyes, concentrating on her spent body. With a great effort, she managed to wiggle her fingers. "Nay," she sighed. "The power was too great. I fear I shall not have the strength for some time."
The grizzled face of Gilmin loomed into her vision, and he bowed to her deeply. "Lady, there is no time to waste. We must return to your settlement and make ready to leave on the morrow. Will you deign to let us carry you?"
"You will exhaust yourselves…"
Legolas stood up briskly. "Nonsense. I have carried you before, and you were taller then. You are not a burden, nor will you ever be. If it will make you feel better, I will put you down as soon as you feel ready to walk on your own. But Gilmin is right. We have no time to spare."
Reluctantly, Nimoë nodded her acquiescence. Then she remembered the other member of their party. "Raven?"
The Hobbit's voice responded from her left. "Yes, Lady?"
"Do you believe in me now?"
There was a pause before a response. "I believe that you have a power like none I have ever imagined. I will swear to keep you alive until you can use it to save our world."
With a contented nod, Nimoë breathed, "Good." Then she promptly fainted.
