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Malris sat still as Orėmir spoke, with an occasional approving nod, then spoke after him.
"You speak wisely, friend. Men should indeed keep this thing, their heirloom. It has nothing to do with Valinor. I am with you. But must one of us carry it to Tol Morwen himself?
"We are now in the Valar's hands; and it would seem they tested us upon the sea, and found us worthy. Is this not some new trial from the Lords of the West? And should we not answer it with fealty and submission-throwing the helm into the sea to be carried whither Ulmo wills?"
"Certainly it should not be returned to the pool...for it does not belong here at all. Myself, I support entrusting it to the clean waters of the ocean. It will be in good company there; Palantiri, the sword Anglachel, Maglor's Silmaril...even if it does not find its way to Tol Morwen."
It was at this point, with night fully upon the party, and the stars glinting high in the sky, Earendil supreme among them, that the six survivors of Maedhros' armies heard the Voice that was to be to them a riddle, a delight, a problem, a saviour and a doom. It was a mighty voice, driving all other matters from the mind; harp music ran beside it, beautiful and stirring to the heart.
On Himring's hill, the night is aflame
And rings with the voices of hope.
A fire of sparks from an army of blades
As we garner the armour, the horses, the rope.
Morgoth, Dark Enemy of the World
Will shudder on his threshold in the North,
For where he sundered us two from one,
He sees now the Wrath of Elf, Man, Dwarf.
The last line of each verse was repeated, as if it had once formed a refrain, but only the Voice sang "As we garner the armour, the horses, the rope"; though the six Noldor knew it well, they were shocked to silence. But Malris rose, his hand on his heart, and sung "He sees now the wrath of Elf, Man, Dwarf," with tears in his eyes. Then the Voice and its music ceased.
"Wonder of wonders!" Malris cried, a light in his eyes like one driven mad. "Maglor still breaths...come, we must seek him! Do you remember when we chorussed that ballad, and many other verses besides, before the Nirnaeth? Up, my slothful friends! Cast away yon helm and seek our lord's voice!"
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