Speak, Friend, and Enter
“Ennyn Durin Aran Moria. Pedo Mellon a Minno. Im Narvi hain echant. Celebrimbor o Eregion teithant i thiw hin.”
Where there stands, in the history of time, Recollections cherished and cravings blind.
A door held shut, forgotten at last, Innocently sleeping, the quiet past.
It lay waiting over Misty Mountains old, Secrets and treasures never to be told.
Crafted in unison of a dissimilar species, Common desires forged reluctant treaties.
While hidden in dark cliffs, a city lived on, The stone and rock proved unfailingly brawn.
In the west setting sun, a lavish gate lie await, Naive of prowling mischief, yearning to infiltrate.
Cunningly fashioned, hidden from sight, Hinges intertwined, impenetrable by might.
Only moonlight reveals, unravels, unties, Or bright shining stars hanging in the sky.
At last, a fine silver exposes an emblem, A crown and two trees causes a tremble.
When a star and ancient letters suddenly appear, Then divulging an inscription, gasping to revere.
The Black Chasm in reach, engulfing the center, Resounding the words, “Speak, friend, and enter.”
“The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter. I, Narvi, made them. Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these signs.”
(COPYRIGHT RESERVED, ORIGINAL WORK OF AUTHORSHIP.)