A Song for Belodin's Farewell

My dearest friend, Master Belodin Bronzeboots, son of Durin, is departing Bree-land once more, to aid his kin in the north. Aged though he may be, his honor and courage will never falter, and he thinks of nothing but protecting the lands from darkness. He has honored me with his kindness, his generosity, and his love, and I will cherish my friendship with him, to whatever end. Before he left, I invited him for a visit, we shared food and drink, laughter and tears. At the end, I sang for him, the song I often hear him humming to himself, the song of Durin, which I learned during his last absence, in the hopes I could offer him a small token that might bring him some joy, knowing that a lady of Rohan cares to honor a Khazad. 

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 for ever fair and bright.

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