'You speak of what you do not know, when you liken Moria to the stronghold of Sauron.' answered Gandalf. '

I alone of you have ever been in the dungeons of the Dark Lord, and only in his older and lesser dwelling of Dol Guldur. Those who pass the Gates of Barad-dur do not return. But I would not lead you into Moria if there were no hope of coming out again. If there are Orcs there, it might prove ill for us, that is true But most of the Orcs of the Misty Mountains were scattered or destroyed in the Battle of Five Armies. The Eagles report that Orcs are gathering again from afar; but there is hope that Moria is still free.

'The are the emblems of Durin!' cried Gimli.

'And there is the Tree of the High Elves' said Legolas.

'And the Star of the House of Fëanor.' said Gandalf. 'They are wrought of ithildin that mirrors only starlight and moonlight, and sleeps until it is touched by one who speaks words now long forgotten in Middle-earth. It is long since I heard them, and thought deeply before I could recall them to my mind.

They say only: The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak friend and enter. And underneath small and faint is written: I Narvi, made them. Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these signs.

Mellon!

The star shown out briefly and faded again. Then silently a great doorway was outlined, though not a crack or joint had been visible before. Slowly it divided in the middle and swung outwards inch by inch, until both doors lay back against the wall. Through the opening a shadowy stair could be seen climbing steeply up; but beyond the lower steps the darkness was deeper then the night. The Company stared in wonder.

'It is grim reading,' he said. 'I fear their end was cruel. Listen! We cannot get out. They have taken the Bridge and the second hall. Frár and Lóni and Náli fell there. There are four line smeared so that I con only read went 5 days ago. The last lines run the pool is up to the wall at the Westgate. The Watcher in the Water took Óin. We cannot get out. The end comes, an then drums, drums in the deep. I wonder what that means. The last thing written is in a trailing scrawl of elf-letters: they are coming!

We fought far under the living earth, where time is not counted. Ever he clutched me, and ever I hewed him, till at last he fled into dark tunnels. They were made by Durin's folk, Gimli Son of Gloin. Far, far below the deepest delvings of the Dwarves, the world is gnawed by nameless things. Even Sauron knows them not. They are older then he. Now I walked there, but I will bring no report to darken the light of day.

Ever up now we went, until we came to the Endless Stair. From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak it climbed, ascending in unbroken spiral in many thousand steps, until it issued at last in Durin's Tower carved in the living rock of Zirakzigil, the pinnacle of the Silvertine.

Ice fell like rain. I threw down my enemy, and he fell from the high place and broke the mountin-side were he smote it in his ruin. Then darkness took me, and I strayed out of thought and time...