Board Thread:Lore Texts/@comment-26149161-20180119011451

 Long over hill and woodland fey, Through the night and through the day, Our hearts are born, our minds are called, To Dimrill Dale mountain-walled. White snow fair beneath the moon Grey stone well-carved and well-hewn. There lie the spires of our land, The realm once marked by Durin’s hand. We name them still in song and tale Baraz the Cruel, above the dale Crimson-hornèd Caradhras With a face as red as brass. South is found the Cloudyhead, Made before there Durin tread Clothed in mist, white Bundshathûr With the windows upon its spur. Last and highest, Zirakzigil, The Silvertine, grey Celebdil A tower was made upon the peak Our legends tell, yet still we seek. The forge is grey, the mountain cold Dark things lie beneath our hold. Durin’s Bane dwells in the deep, Where the bones of our fathers sleep. But time will be when Durin comes To the sound of roaring drums We shall away, in the day To take back our home in mountains grey.
 * 1) title:The Lay of the Three Peaks
 * 2) author:Dalin of Dáin's Halls
 * 3) types:durins_folk
 * 4) By Ithilion Eleruth (High King Ithilion)

Ithilion, Discussions Moderator (Auta i lómë)  