The moment that Caldarion severed the Hand of Morgoth and Nimoë crashed to the heated floor of the chamber, the weight pressing Legolas to the ground vanished.  There was not time to save Caldarion, but the Elf Prince leapt to his feet and scrambled the few feet to where Nimoë lay, her eyes closed in a dead faint, her moon-pale hair pooled on the ground beneath her, beginning to singe.

The great black stump of the cloud arm still swung madly overhead, so Legolas dropped into a low crouch and pulled Nimoë away from the gaping maw of the Chasm.  "Nimoë, wake up.  Please!"

She moaned and her head began to swing back and forth, as if forcibly denying him.  Her hands clutched spasmodically around her belly and tears began to seep from the closed corners of her eyes.

"Legolas!" shouted Raven.  "The Balrog!"

A glance told him that the fire demon was no longer waiting for the commands of Morgoth.  It rose to its massive feet and raised its burning whip, daring them to try to flee.

Raven and Gilmin stumbled backwards, terrified.  Gilmin pulled a throwing axe from his boot and hurled it with all of his Dwarvish strength towards the beast.  The Balrog only laughed, a sound as mirthless as the wails of tortured children, as the axe embedded itself in its molten flesh.

Dwarf, Elf and Hobbit watched amazed as the metal of the axe melted into liquid, and the handle burst into violent flame.  It seemed for a moment that the Balrog paused, reveling in the powerlessness of its foes, but then it charged forward, hand outstretched to lay its burning touch on the face of Gilmin, who was closest.

The Dwarf retreated, but could not go far, for the Chasm lay behind them, pulsing with malice, drawing them towards its depths.  Seeing that he had was doomed, Gilmin cried in defiance, "I would rather die than serve your master!  Even he cannot control the dead!"

Legolas watched in stunned silence as the Dwarf seized the sword from Raven's hands.  Had the Hobbit been expecting the move, he could have resisted but, as it was, Gilmin successfully wrenched it away, then moved to place his body in front of his friends, to buy them a few more seconds of life.  Perhaps give them that much more chance to escape alive.

Time seemed to slow to a snail's pace as Legolas watched Gilmin lift the sword high above him, the tip pointed at his own burly chest.  The Balrog gave a scream of rage and lunged, hoping to reach the Dwarf before he could fulfill his threat.  Dead men were indeed of no use to its Master.

The point of the sword plunged downwards and the Balrog fell forward, hand outstretched.  Legolas could not tell which would strike first, but he heard his own voice screaming in denial.

And then both combatants were knocked to the ground.

Gilmin lay, stunned and blinking, trying to decide if he was still alive, or if he was doomed to walk this moment for all of his afterlife.  Raven's sword lay inches from his fingertips, where it had been thrown by the weight of his fall.  His gnarled hand came up and felt over his chest, and his face registered amazement that he was not torn and bleeding.

The scream of the Balrog sounded again, but this time Legolas did not hear it.  All his thought was on the other voice that filled the chamber.  Haunting, aching song, the likes of which he had never heard in his long lifetime swirled on the sweltering air.  He dropped his face back to the Elf maid in his arms, and saw that she was staring out at the Balrog, her eyes open but glazed.  Was she still in the power of Morgoth?

No.  It could not be, for although her eyes were glassy, they were her own, the pure grey that he loved with all his heart.  A terrible rumbling began to grow around them, and Legolas pulled Nimoë tight against him, afraid of what new horror might be approaching.

Abruptly, the ground began to shake.  At first it was as gentle as a boat rocking on a calm sea, but then all of the occupants of the chamber were forced to their hands and knees, clinging to the earth to keep from being flung haphazardly into the molten rivers of lava, or into the Chasm of the Void.

A great groaning began above them, and Gilmin stared up at the ceiling in horror.  "Back!  Get back!" he screamed, struggling to pull himself over the heaving ground towards the edge of the Void, away from the source of the groan, which was now punctuated by terrible popping noises.

As he went, he grabbed Raven by the wrist, dragging the lighter man after him.  The Hobbit helped as best he could, scrabbling with his feet against the violent earth.  His coal-dark eyes were wide with fear, as if he also recognized the sound.

Legolas managed to drag Nimoë back with him, although her body was completely limp, all of her strength being thrown into her song.  In caves, there was no one that Legolas trusted more than a Dwarf.  If Gilmin told him to move, he moved without question.

As he reached the Dwarf's side, Gilmin shoved Legolas down, and swung himself up over the heads of the two Elves and the Hobbit, shielding them with his own stronger body.

So it was that Gilmin was the only one who saw the ceiling begin to crumble.  His eyes were wide with awe and wonder as the very rock of the mountain began to collapse, raining down on the body of the Balrog, pinning it, and burying it beneath tons of volcanic rock.

Dust swirled angrily from the rent stone, biting into Gilmin's eyes, burning in his nose, but he watched on, unable to tear his gaze away.  After many long moments the violent shaking ceased and the Dwarf realized that he could no longer hear Nimoë's voice pulsing through the air.

Quickly he rolled off of his friends, shaking the rubble that had landed upon him from his body.  Raven staggered to his feet, staring in wonder at the vast pile of stone, holding the Balrog captive.

Nimoë raised her head weakly and said, "It will not be held for long.  We must get past it and into the tunnel."

Gilmin helped Legolas pull Nimoë to a standing position, and together the companions clambered over the shifting prison of the fire demon.  Great jets of steam lanced upward from beneath them, evidence that the heat of the Balrog's body was melting the rocks, but the way was still solid enough for them to pass.

Raven crossed first, then reached out to help the Dwarf and the Elf Prince lower Nimoë down to the floor.  Once across the rockfall, the four companions crossed quickly into the relative safety of the old lava tunnel.

Nimoë wrenched herself away from the arms of her husband and Gilmin, leaning herself against the rough wall of the tunnel.  She stared back into the chamber, where the stump of the cloud arm was again beginning to manifest fingers, and the Balrog struggled to free itself from the crushing weight pinning it fast.

Her fingers moved to her belly, stroking unconsciously, while she screwed together her courage.  She turned to face the others, who were urging her to run while they could.  Then, to her surprise, the rumbling began again, and the telltale quaking of the ground vibrated up through her feet.

"Go," she whispered.  "Get out of the mountain.  I must stay behind.  I must seal the Chasm, and close Morgoth off from this world."

Legolas stared at her with disbelieving eyes.  "I am not leaving you, beloved.  Orodruin has awoken.  We must flee or we are all doomed."

"I said RUN!" she screamed, begging him go.  To escape.  This was not his place to die.

When he showed no inclination to follow her command, she turned and pounded her fist into the solid rock of the wall, frustration and fear overwhelming her.  Tears rolled unchecked down her face, and she felt as though she was being torn in two.  Her duty was to seal the Chasm, but her heart and mind ached.  Not for herself.  Not even for Legolas.

For the new life that was even now blossoming in her womb.

The life that had saved them all.

Author's Note:  Thanks for all your kind thoughts.  My little boy is just fine, and being a little terror like usual.  I really appreciate your support.  It's nice to know that there are people out there who will care about you, even if they don't really know you.  You guys are great! ;-D