~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Kili and Fili dismounted their ponies and tied them up with the others. Gloin was already starting a fire, and Gandalf had already gotten his pipe out and was blowing smoke rings into the night air. 

     Fili and Kili pulled out their fiddles and sat down on a log. They loved to play them in the evenings. As they began playing Gandalf, Bilbo and the others looked their way. After a few minutes Fili began to sing.

     "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 might 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.

     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 corset, 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-dum.
     But still the sunken stars appear
     In dark and windless Mirrormere;
     There lies his crown in water deep,
     Till Durin wakes again from sleep."

     "That is beautiful." Bilbo said after a few moments of silence. "But, um... who is Durin?"

     All the dwarves (who had sat down around Kili and Fili during the song) looked at Bilbo in shock.

     "You don't know who Durin is?!" Dwalin exclaimed in surprise.

     "King Durin I, also known as Durin the Deathless, is an ancestor of mine, Fili, Kili, Dwalin, Balin, Oin and Gloin's." Thorin said. "He was one of the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves; the eldest, in fact."

     "He was put to sleep beneath the mountains until the elves awoke." Balin said. "He woke in Mount Gundabad and travelled to the Misty Mountains and created the city we call Khazad-dum; or Moria, as the elves call it."

     "Why is he called Durin the Deathless?" Bilbo asked.

     "That would be because he lived much longer than any other dwarf." Bofur said. "He lived to be 2,395 years old, actually."

     "He sounds like a very important dwarf." Bilbo stated.

     "Aye." Gloin said. "He was."

     After a short silence Thorin yawned and stood up before he walked away and set his bed up. All the other dwarves except for Balin, Fili and Kili left to get some sleep as well. Kili and Fili got up to go sit by the fire and Balin sat near Gandalf and quietly conversed with him.

     Kili and Fili sat there in silence for awhile, enjoying the peaceful crackle of the fire and chirp of the crickets.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~