Wpis użytkownika Acrivec w Hydepark

> 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.
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