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Epic orchestral folk, Germanic Hall song. Dwarven folk. The Dwarves sing a song about Mahal (Aulë) their maker. Tapestry in the background is an homage to the work of Ted Nasmith. Lyrics: In the hollow of the world, where the silent stone was laid, Before the sun was kindled, before the stars were made, The Smith sat at the mountain’s root, the fire in His hand, To forge a folk of iron-will to walk the inner land. With a hammer-stroke He called us from the dreaming of the rock, To bide the weight of ages and the shifting of the shock. The chisel carved the spirit, the bellows breathed the soul, And Mahal saw the Seven stand, unbroken and made whole. Clang of the hammer, song of the stone, Heir to the anvil, flesh of the bone. From the deep of the furnace to the light of the hall, We hammer the glory of Father Mahal! He gave the secret of the vein, the language of the lode, The path where hidden silver runs and golden rivers flowed. He taught the hand to grip the helve, the eye to find the flaw, To bind the strength of granite to the Craftsman’s holy law. By the heat of the forge and the temper of the steel, We prove the truth of every blade and every gear and wheel. For every gem that catches light in caverns dark and deep, Is a promise made to Mahal that his children mean to keep. Though empires crumble into dust and kingdoms fade to gray, The work of Khazad-dum shall stand until the ending day. Our memory is the mountain’s heart, our pride is in the grain, The true blood of the Maker’s fire is pulsing in the vein. From the First Father’s waking to the sons of sons to be, The line remains as iron, reaching through eternity. We delve the roots of Arda, we endure the turning tide, With the Maker’s mark upon us and the Maker as our guide. Clang of the hammer, song of the stone, Heir to the anvil, flesh of the bone. From the deep of the furnace to the light of the hall, We hammer the glory of Father Mahal! The fire burns. The stone wakes. The hammer falls. Mahal.