Khazad-dûm was the kingdom founded by the forefather of Durin's Folk, Durin the First.
From that time onward every king of Khazad-dûm bore four heirlooms, passed down from generation to generation.
The Axe of Durin,
The Helm of Durin,
The mithril war-armor,
and the Emblem of Durin.
In the old days, when the kings of Khazad-dûm struggled against the Balrog, two of them fell in turn. The Dwarves were forced to abandon the kingdom in haste and could not carry these four treasures away.
No one had expected that all of them would be found here, set quietly in a hidden chamber off the Second Hall.
Before the eyes of all, Thorin and Dáin stepped forward slowly and took up the relics one by one, holding them in their hands and examining them with careful reverence.
At Kaen Eowenríel's side, Andric waited in silence. Kaen turned to him and said, "Send word to Yenagath. Tell him to prepare all that is needed for a coronation. We will hold a crowning for our two Dwarven kings."
...
In the fifteenth year of the Age of the Sacred Trees, on the last day of autumn in what was once the year 2960 of the Third Age, the time came.
At evening, the last moon of autumn would meet for a brief moment with the setting sun in the western sky. Their mingled light would become the rare sight that Dwarves call the "Twin Radiance of Sun and Moon."
That night was their New Year, Durin's Day.
In the First Hall of Moria tens of thousands of warriors gathered. The deep ringing of Dwarven music filled the stone.
Two thousand six hundred Dwarven Heavy-armored warriors raised their voices in a single mighty chorus, singing:
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 shadow 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 forever fair and bright.
These verses told the tale of the Age of the Two Trees, from Durin's awakening to the founding of the kingdom of Khazad-dûm.
The Dwarves sang in deep voices that shook the stone and stirred the heart.
Those who listened seemed to see before them the first of Durin's Folk rising alone on Mount Gundabad in a world without Sun or Moon, then traveling southward, solitary and steadfast.
When the sun rose, far off in Beleriand the Elves fought Morgoth in great wars, the greatest kingdom of the Dwarves, Khazad-dûm, was already growing in secret under stone.
There the king was Durin the Deathless, lord of Durin's Folk.
There hammer on the anvil smote,
There chisel clove, and graver wrote
There blade was forged and bound the 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.
This part of the song told how Khazad-dûm rose to its height, how Dwarven craft and wealth and power grew.
In the hearts of those who watched, the united will of the Dwarves formed into visions. Before their inner sight appeared scenes of valley-mines and forge-halls, of Dwarves delving, smelting, crafting, prospering, growing strong.
Then Thorin and Dáin, clothed in royal robes, came from the Dimrill Gate into the First Hall. They walked step by step along a crimson carpet toward the twin thrones that had been raised for them.
In halls of stone the harps resounded,and singers' voices wove their tale.The great doors opened, the horns were sounding.
Now the song sank into a deeper, darker strain:
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.
These verses told of Moria's decline, how from splendor it sank into darkness. In their song the will of Durin's Folk shaped visions in the minds of all who listened.
They saw the Balrog awaken and two kings stand against it, fighting bravely to the end and falling with countless Dwarves beside them.
Durin's Folk were broken. The price of their defeat was exile and wandering.
Khazad-dûm, shrouded in shadow, became Moria, the Black Pit.
All was lost, save only the reflection of the star-crown in Mirrormere's depths, as Durin the First had once seen it.
That light was a promise that one day Khazad-dûm would rise again, and a son of Durin's blood would inherit his crown.
When the last note of the song faded, Thorin and Dáin, direct heirs of Durin's royal line, stood beneath the rebuilt thrones.
Kaen waited there for them, smiling.
"You are the kings of Erebor and the Iron Hills," he said. "But today, here, you shall be crowned as the twin kings of Durin's Folk and bear the full authority of the High Kings of the Dwarves.
"Thorin Oakenshield, you saw with your own eyes the fall of the kingdom of Erebor, and with great will and courage you restored it. Now you fight to reclaim Khazad-dûm as well. This day, before your people, you shall receive Durin's Helm and Durin's Emblem."
"Dáin Ironfoot, you are a valiant warrior and a king skilled in battle. When your kin called, you did not hesitate but marched to their aid and proved both your courage and your loyalty to your people. Your heart is pure and your fire burns bright. Therefore today you shall receive the Axe of Durin and the mithril armor.
"I, Kaen Eowenríel, lord of Eowenría and High Lord of the Free Alliance, declare this: after nine hundred and eighty years, the kingdom of Khazad-dûm is restored.
"Thorin Oakenshield and Dáin Ironfoot are from this day the joint rulers of Moria, the kings of Khazad-dûm."
The two Dwarven kings took the heirlooms from Kaen's hands, treasures that had been closest to the hearts of Durin's Folk since the elder days.
They nodded to him in silence, then turned and walked side by side up the steps to the thrones.
A great music rose again, and the ancient song flowed on as they mounted. Reaching the high seats, they turned and bowed deeply to all assembled.
The Dwarves went to one knee. The warriors of Eowenría and the Caladhîn Elves bowed their heads. Even Kaen himself inclined in respect.
The restoration of Khazad-dûm and the crowning of the two Dwarven kings was not the end of strife. Rather, it marked the beginning of a greater war.
For when they had seen with their own eyes how many dark creatures infested Moria, they knew that three thousand warriors would never be enough to cleanse that ancient kingdom.
If they were to reclaim every hall and drive darkness from every deep, Thorin and Dáin, in the name of the Lords of Moria, had to send out a call to arms to all the Dwarven kingdoms.
Obeying the ancient oaths, the other six Dwarven realms, beyond Erebor and the Iron Hills, answered.
A vast Dwarven host was already marching toward Khazad-dûm.
-------------------------
Patreon Advance Chapters: patreon .com / ElvenKing20