For a moment Legolas did not respond, unwilling to give Nimoë more pain, but at Gilmin's encouraging nod, he knelt down in front of her and replied, "I am sorry, Nimoë. Caldarion was lost to the Chasm. He saved you from the clutches of Morgoth. He saved us all."
The Elf maid stared back at him, clearly not fully comprehending his words. Then, abruptly, her face crumpled and it seemed that the willpower that had held her upright for the last hours fled from her body. Tears, mingled with the dust of their flight, rolled unchecked down her face, and she silently leaned in toward the tall Elf Prince, clinging to his body, releasing the long pent up fears and her new, personal grief.
Legolas wrapped his arms around her shaking body protectively, offering her what little comfort he could. Caldarion had been a dear friend to her, and he understood what is was to lose a friend. When Gimli had finally passed from the living world, he had been heartsick. And so, using his own experience as a guide, her gave her the comfort that he had had no one to give to him, so many years past, which he would likely have been too proud to accept, had any chosen to offer.
A small hand alit on his shoulder and Raven's voice said, "We do not have time for this. We must keep going until we are back in Núrnelven. Only there will I truly begin to feel safe."
Nimoë nodded her head minutely against Legolas' shoulder. Lifting her face up, she angrily dashed her tears away with the back of her hand. "I am sorry. This is indeed not the time for mourning." Her eyes hardened and she stared up at her companions, saying, "When we reach Núrnelven, then I will mourn him properly. He was a good man, and I would have him remembered so."
So saying, she rose stumblingly to her feet and Legolas reached to steady her, concern writ plain on his face. She should not exert herself so… It cannot be safe for her or for the babe.
Nimoë knew him well, and she understood his expression. With soft fingers she traced the strong line of his jaw. "Do not fear for us, Legolas. If this child could withstand the power of Morgoth, he can certainly survive the journey home."
"He?"
A shy smile crossed her lips, and she cast her eyes downward. "Aye. The child I bear is a boy." Raising her eyes again, she gazed unwaveringly at Legolas' clear blue stare. "He will be strong, cunning and wise like his father. And he will run like the wind, for did you not travel great distances in the Third Age, when hunting for Pippin and Merry? The journey to Núrnelven will be as nothing to him."
"I seem to recall his mother being along for that journey," Legolas replied, wryly, "And she sustained us all with her song, just as she will now." He pulled her close in one last embrace before turning again south. "You are the strongest woman I have ever known, Nimoë. I do not know what I did to deserve you."
The two Elves exchanged a sustaining kiss, then, with Gilmin and Raven on their heels, once again began the long journey to Núrnelven.
The sun was rising in the east, floating in a gold and scarlet haze, when the four runners came within sight of the northern watchtower of the city. A great clamor went up, which sounded like someone beating on all the cooking pots of a household simultaneously, and Legolas and Nimoë glanced at each other in amazement. Before they had departed, Legolas had left an order to make some form of alarm for the watchtowers. It seemed that his command had been followed.
Bellowing to make himself heard over the ruckus, Legolas shouted, "It is Legolas! We have returned! Do not fear! We are your friends!"
The clanging subsided, then an answering shout rolled over the crisp morning air, "Legolas! Nimoë!" The two watched in wonder as the Elf in the watchtower dropped her weapons and ran, slipping and stumbling, down the twisting stair of the tower. The figure's cloak fell back as she ran towards them, revealing flowing flaxen hair, and her features.
Nimoë let out a choked cry, "Mother!" Given new strength, she rushed past the others, desperate for the welcome of her mother's embrace. It was as if the long tortuous hours had never happened as she sprinted towards the approaching Elf.
Tinunél and Nimoë reached each other and were borne to the ground with the force of the younger Elf's embrace. Tears of joy spread down both fair faces as they pressed kisses of welcome and to each others' cheeks, forehead and lips.
"Mother, I was so afraid that I would never see you again," sobbed Nimoë, once again a child in Tinunél's arms. "I did not think that I would live… I didn't know what to do… Oh, mother, I love you so much!"
By that time the others had reached to happy reunion. Legolas smiled down at the entwined women. He had chosen well when he selected Nimoë's foster parents. The love they bore for each other was clearly as strong as any birth parent for their child.
Then Nimoë was tugging on his hand, childlike in her eagerness, "Mother, Legolas and I are going to be parents! Morgoth is defeated and I am pregnant!" A shadow swept over her face. "Caldarion is gone, though. He likely died to save us."
A sour mutter came from behind her, "After he brought us to the brink of disaster."
The young Elf maid leapt to her feet and towered over Raven, startling them all with her vehemence, "Caldarion redeemed himself in the end. If he had not brought us to that place, we would have never been able to seal the Dark Lord away. You will not speak ill of him. Caldarion is a hero!"
Raven backed away, his hands raised apologetically in front of him. "As you say! As you say! I meant no harm, Lady, I swear it!"
All the anger went out of her body and she sagged. Bringing her hand to her forehead, she said, "I am sorry, too, Raven. You also are a hero, and you deserve better from me." With a small gasp, she began to waver on her feet. In a small voice, she breathed, "I am so very tired now. I think I need to sleep…"
Legolas caught her up before she hit the ground, cradling her in his arms. Tinunél was beside him in an instant, her face clouded with worry. "It is only exhaustion," explained Legolas. "She has suffered worse than the rest of us, but I think that we all must seek our beds."
So saying, he led the small party towards the settlement. A score of Elves were racing towards them, weapons drawn, having been summoned by the alarm rung by Tinunél. When they recognized their Prince, however, their shouts of alarm were replaced by cries of welcome.
Legolas briefly explained that the great evil had been stopped, but urged them still to guard against marauding minions. Then, heedless of their requests for more details, he forged his way through them, intent on bringing Nimoë to a bed, and to rest himself. Gilmin and Raven went with Tinunél to the Healing House, where they could rest comfortably.
Once within his own dwelling, Legolas placed Nimoë's limp form onto the bed where they had so recently created a new life. A ewer of clean water was still sitting on the small dressing table, and he pulled out a clean cloth to bathe the dirt of the quest off of her fair form.
With tender care he pulled her travel-worn garments off of her, dressing her in one of his own shirts, which were stored in a nearby chest. Using the cloth, he washed the dirt from her face, neck and hands, then, holding a basin under her head, he poured the contents of the ewer over her hair, rinsing it clean. Through it all, she did not even blink, so fully exhausted was she.
Once he had finished his task to his satisfaction, Legolas went to retrieve more water, to clean himself. With that done, he dressed himself, for he had one last task to complete before he could rest, one that he was not looking forward to in the slightest.
Out in the lanes of Núrnelven, he quickly found Telarion. Taking him aside, near the shores of the Sea of Nurn, the Elf Prince gently broke the news of Caldarion's disappearance, and supposed death. While he expected Telarion to weep at word of the loss of his brother, the young Elf surprised him. "He was alive when he fell into the Chasm, was he not?" he asked.
"He was," acknowledged Legolas.
"Then I shall assume that he is living still. I will not give up hope of seeing him again some day," Telarion vowed.
Somewhat relieved, Legolas took his leave. He was a bit distraught that Telarion would not acknowledge the very real likelihood that Caldarion was forever gone, but decided not to pursue the matter, if it gave the younger Elf comfort to think otherwise.
At last free to sleep, Legolas returned to his dwelling. There he pulled off all his clothes but a soft linen undershirt, and crept into the bed, drawing Nimoë into his arms. As tired as he was, he could not immediately sleep. Instead he lay there, his lips pressed into his wife's still damp hair, and allowed his mind to relive the last dreadful days, and to ponder the miracle that was awaiting him.
Finally, with one hand rested on Nimoë's still shapely belly, he allowed his eyes to close, to experience the rejuvenation of full sleep. It would be a long time before the two Elves would wake.
