Board Thread:Middle Earth Roleplay Board/@comment-25344655-20150814035854/@comment-25344655-20150815004300

After everyone was being merry for a long while, everyone grew quiet, the great hall grew dim and you could barely see the shape of a dwarven chorus.

"Lo, the misty mountain calls,

To the eye of sunrise,

Belegost and Nogrod wake,

Spirits from the earthen grave,

Seven Fathers, gilded strength,

Loyal sons and daughters,

Fearless warriors born to bear,

Gifts of heart by laud and heir,

Faithfully by Arda's prayer,

Fortresses of middle earth,

Westward rivers crossing,

Battles fought and victories won,

At the side of nobleman,

From the mines of Khazad-dum,

To the peaks of Orocarni!"

For the next song, all dwarves, even Glosur, pitched in as the song seemed to echo throughout the halls of the great kingdom...


 * The world was young, the mountains green,
 * No stain yet on the Moon was seen,
 * No words were laid on stream or stone
 * When Durin woke and walked alone.
 * He named the nameless hills and dells;
 * He drank from yet untasted wells;
 * He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,
 * And saw a crown of stars appear,
 * As gems upon a silver thread,
 * Above the shadows of his head.
 * The world was fair, the mountains tall,
 * In Elder Days before the fall
 * Of mighty kings in Nargothrond,
 * And Gondolin, who now beyond
 * The Western Seas have passed away:
 * The world was fair in Durin's day.
 * A king he was on carven throne
 * In many-pillared halls of stone
 * With golden roof and silver floor,
 * And runes of power upon the door.
 * The light of sun and star and moon
 * In shining lamps of crystal hewn
 * Undimmed by cloud or shade of night
 * There shone for ever fair and bright.
 * There hammer on the anvil smote,
 * There chisel clove, and graver wrote;
 * There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;
 * The delver mined, the mason built.
 * There beryl, pearl, and opal pale,
 * And metal wrought like fishes' mail,
 * Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,
 * And shining spears were laid in hoard.
 * Unwearied then were durin's Folk;
 * Beneath the mountains music woke:
 * The harpers harped, the minstrels sang,
 * And at the gates the trumpets rang.
 * The world is grey, the mountains old,
 * The forge's fire is ashen-cold;
 * No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:
 * The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;
 * The shadow lies upon his tomb
 * In Moria, in Khazad-dûm,


 * But still the sunken stars appear
 * In dark and windless Mirrormere,
 * There lies his crown in water deep,
 * Till Durin wakes again from sleep."


 * The song ended, and the atmosphere was thick with the longing of the dwarves...