“Oh,” remarked Melian when Eldarion turned the page.  “The Doors of Dúrin!  I remember them from the book Captain Peregrin brought to Ada.”

            Eldarion nodded and resumed reading aloud.

D 

Deep are the waters of Kheled-zaram, the Mirrormere, where Dúrin’s Crown lies mirrored in stars before the eastern doors of the great Dwarrow-delf of Khazad-dûm, the most ancient of the Dwarf kingdoms, where Dúrin the Deathless awoke in the depths of time and where he ruled seven times ere his Dwarf miners delved too deeply, disturbing the dreams of the great demon of fire and shadow that dwelt beneath the roots of the mountains, a demon that came to be known as Dúrin’s Bane.

Those Dwarves that had lived there were all dead or departed soon after their King’s death, and only orcs, cave trolls, and other creatures of the Dark, all save dragons, disturbed the darkness that now filled those deep-delved halls and passages.

But the day came when, driven by desperation, the Fellowship of the Ring came that way, daring the western Doors of Dúrin that had been wrought by Narvi and Celebrimbor, Dwarf and Elf artisans of unparalleled skill, and further daring the dangers hidden within the dark halls that now filled this ancient dwelling of the Dwarves.

There Gandalf fell and died, drawn down into the deep places by the Balrog’s whip, but not before he destroyed his dangerous enemy.  And atop the roof of the mountains he deigned to return to us, now clad in the dignity of being the newly designated White, to drive away despair and to inspire estel within us once more, desiring only to see Sauron and his devices destroyed that we might again stand free of desperation once more.