Winter has fallen upon the land.
As the white cloaks of father winter covers the fields and pebbles, one can only hear the silence what he brings.
Beneath the mountain the cold makes no difference. Years have gone by since I have last traveled to the Greener parts of Middle-Earth. For the first time in months I have let the sun fall upon my old skin.
The mountain looks the same as it always did. But within her sounds have come back and the warmth of Durin's folk shines through its cold walls.
As for now, the mountain awaits my return. Let the hammer ring once more with in Khâzad-Dûm.
