|“||It is Dáin, Lord of the Iron Hills, Thorin's cousin...||”|
–Gandalf, The Battle of the Five Armies (film)
Hello Person! How are we all? It's me, Lord Dain with the misspelt Awsome, Lord of the Iron Hills, King Under the Mountain and the Ruler of Durin's Folk (a highly contested position with other users)
About me Edit
Favourite Good Faction: Durins Folk
Favourite Good Armour: Gold Trimmed Dwarven Armour
Favourite Melee Weapon: Mithril Warhammer
Favourite Bow: High Elven Bow
Favourite Evil Faction: Isengard
Favourite Evil NPC: Tormented Elf
Facts about me Edit
*I have lived in 5 countries
*I used to think Gandalf and Galadriel were siblings
*My favourite food is Caprese Salad.
*I use Technic
*My first comment was about Saurons tower on the Mordor Orc page, made on the 5th of May.
My Favourite Tolkien Poem: Edit
- 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."