Into the mountain's walls of bone,
a race of dwarves delved for gold,
and treasure from the hills of stone,
always, they searched for mithril old.
Beautiful silver, shining bright,
lay deep in caverns ancient halls,
and Moria's dark and endless night,
was lighter for their cheerful calls.
Unknown, to them, that deep within
the tomb of marble's silence,
a fiery demon, waited to begin,
an era of death and violence.
Fire and smoke, drums in the deep,
echoing, as the monster lay asleep.