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... ’t wipe away the smile that had formed even if offered a thousand gold.

Over a hundred dwarves were working in unison, dozens of them singing a song as they pounded metal.

Down we go, where shadows creep,

‎ Through stone halls cold and secrets deep.

‎ With pick and axe, we carve our way,

‎ For gold and glory, we’ll not delay.

Strike the iron, strong and true,

‎ The mountain’s gift, it’s ours to hew.

‎ Forge the blade, the axe, the s ...

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