Kheled-zâram by Zdenka  

“What did you want me to see?” Celebrimbor asked again. Narvi had brought him from his workshop in Khazad-dûm to the East Gate, saying only that he wanted to show him something.

Narvi said only, “A little farther.”

He would not have thought he would bring anyone not a Dwarf to this place. But it was different with Celebrimbor. Celebrimbor was a friend, with an almost Dwarven delight in crafting, in stone and the beauty of what lay below the earth. More than once he had worked with Narvi until dawn, writing and rewriting their plans, so caught up in the exchange of ideas that they forgot to sleep. He had walked with Narvi through unfamiliar tunnels in blind darkness, trusting Narvi to lead him aright. Elf or not, Celebrimbor would not mock at what he saw.

Narvi continued to lead Celebrimbor along the stone-paved road that ran down the mountainside. He could tell that Celebrimbor was almost twitching with curiosity, but he remained silent until they were within sight of the Mirrormere, lying cold and dark in the shadow of the mountains. Then he stopped. “Have you ever looked in Kheled-zâram, Celebrimbor?”

Celebrimbor shook his head. “I’ve crossed over the Caradhras Pass a few times, but I never had reason to go near the water. I thought it would be cold for drinking.”

“Then you will see something new to you.” Narvi turned aside from the path and led him down the gentle slope toward the water. Zirakzigil and his two brother mountains towered above them, peaks tipped with snow. Although it was spring in the lands below, here on the lower slopes of the mountain, the ground was still touched with frost. Narvi did not mind the chill; he was warm enough in his fur-lined coat, and he enjoyed the breeze that tugged at his hair and beard. Celebrimbor had his cloak tossed carelessly around his shoulders; Elves seemed to be less troubled by the cold.

Celebrimbor stopped at the stone pillar, as Narvi knew he would. It was carved with the emblems of the House of Durin, the hammer and anvil and crown of stars. There were other figures as well: a forge with flames, three mountain peaks, a bearded figure lying down as if sleeping; Dwarves with harps and hammers, shields and axes. Celebrimbor stepped closer to read the runes. “The Pillar of Durin. Here Durin, First and Deathless, looked into Kheled-zâram. Narvi, what is this place?”

“What do you see?” Narvi asked.

Celebrimbor tilted his head back to look up at the three mountain peaks: Zirakzigil, Barazinbar, Bundushathûr with his head wrapped in clouds. How like an Elf, Narvi thought with affectionate amusement, to look up first instead of down at the solid earth under his feet! Next, Celebrimbor examined the pillar carefully. “It’s fine carving,” he said.

“It is,” Narvi agreed, “though from long before my time.” Celebrimbor glanced at him sharply, but he evidently decided against questioning Narvi further and walked down to the water.

Immediately, he caught his breath. “Narvi,” he said, his voice soft with wonder, “what is this? There are stars in the water.”

“That is the Crown of Durin.” Narvi walked to join him. Their reflections could not be seen; only, glimmering faintly in the dark water, the gleam of stars.

Celebrimbor continued to gaze into the dark surface. Finally he said, “Is it permitted to touch the water?”

“You can touch it, but why?”

“I only wondered what would happen if someone tried to catch the stars in his fingers.”

Narvi gave him an exasperated look. “You would try to raise Durin’s crown?”

“Not I!” Celebrimbor protested at once. “I am no king, and I wish for no crown. I only wondered what would happen.”

“I have never tried it,” Narvi said. “But I suspect that for any other than Durin, it would be only water.”

Celebrimbor looked into the water again. “I will not test it,” he said. “I mean no disrespect to Durin, or his crown. But what is the story of it? Will you tell me?”

Narvi tugged thoughtfully at his beard. “It is said that sacred things should be spoken of with solid rock under you and solid rock above you. I will have one of them, at least. Sit here with me, and I will tell you of Durin’s awakening.”

Narvi sat on a large rock near the water, and Celebrimbor sat down beside him, his eyes alight with curiosity. Narvi was silent for a few moments as he considered how to begin. “We believe,” he said, “that in the beginning Mahal made us in his forge. Do you know the story?”

Celebrimbor nodded. “I heard it from my father,” he said, “who had it from his friends among the Dwarves of Nogrod.”

Narvi continued, “Then you know that after Mahal made us, he set the first of us to sleep under the mountains until it was time for us to awake and walk Middle-earth. Mahal loved his children dearly, and he was grieved to be parted from them -- for how long a time, he did not know. And so, near the place where he had made the Dwarves, he raised three mountains above the others and shaped a most beautiful lake. He took seven stars, one for each of our first families, and set them in the water. Then he sang to the waters and asked them to remember.

“Darkness was over Middle-earth when Mahal did this. Neither the Sun nor the Moon were yet kindled; there was only the light of the stars. That is why Kheled-zâram reflects the stars even in daylight and why its waters, alone in Middle-earth, remember the days before Sun or Moon.”

“I thought the pattern of the stars seemed very old,” Celebrimbor said quietly. “But what of Durin and his crown?”

Narvi touched the stone he sat on, feeling it cool and solid beneath his hands. He could feel more than hear the soft eternal song of the mountain.  “When Mahal first made us, there were seven Fathers of the Dwarves, and six Mothers. That is why thirteen is a sacred number, and we avoid thirteens out of reverence. A craftsman will not pile thirteen completed objects together, but he stacks them in groups of twelve. And you will never see a group of thirteen Dwarves travel together on any important matter, if it can be avoided.”

“I had noticed that your smiths stack things in twelves,” Celebrimbor said, delighted, “but I didn’t know the reason for it.”

“Our first Fathers and Mothers were laid to sleep with another nearby, where they might find each other when they awakened. Durin was the Eldest, the first-made and the wisest. They say the place of Durin’s awakening was at Mount Gundabad, far to the north. But Durin awoke alone, without a wife or friend. He came outside the mountain and saw the vast darkness lit only by the stars. He turned one way and another, looking for a sign to guide him, and when he turned southward, he felt the earth shiver a little under his feet. And so he went south.

“Durin journeyed for many miles. He sang to himself as he walked, and gave names to the animals and the different kinds of stone. But in all that time, he saw no other person and found none who spoke with a voice save for himself. Durin reverenced the will of Mahal, but he began to fear that he was meant to live out his days alone.”

“At last he reached what is now called Khazad-dûm. He walked back and forth underneath the mountain, learning all its hidden ways. At last he came into a vast chamber, and a shivering came over him, and he was filled with a sense of awe. Even before he looked, he knew the place where he was. He stood in the great stone chamber where Mahal had made him and his brothers.”

Celebrimbor drew in his breath. “That was in Khazad-dûm?” he asked.

“So Durin has said. The chamber was dark and silent, and where the bright glow of the forge once stood, all was ashen-cold. And again Durin feared that he would live and die alone. But he continued through the passages beneath the mountain, and he came out on the eastern side. He saw Kheled-zâram and approached it.

“Durin looked into the dark waters, in the place where you and I looked just now. He saw his reflection in the water, gazing at his own face and beard for the first time. There he saw stars shining in the deep, and they formed a crown above the reflection of his head.

“Durin was very wise, and he knew the heart of Mahal better than anyone else. When the Dwarves were laid to sleep, Durin was the last, and it is said that Mahal spoke secret things to him that the others did not hear. When he saw this, he knew that Mahal had not forgotten him, that he had put the stars there as a sign that he remembered his people and would be close to them. And he knew he was not meant to be alone.

“And so it was; other Dwarves were gathered to Durin in Khazad-dûm, and Durin became King of a great people. Durin came often to look in Kheled-zâram when he was in need of peace and wisdom and a clear mind, or when he was in need of Mahal’s guidance. Durin has told us the story, and so we remember.”

Celebrimbor was silent for a long moment, looking at the water. “You are wrong about one thing, Narvi,” he said with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I am still here in Middle-earth, and I too remember the days before Sun or Moon! Though I was young then.”

“You are older than the Sun and Moon,” Narvi said, half-disbelieving.

Celebrimbor nodded. “But still I have seldom seen such a wonder,” he said with enthusiasm. “Thank you for showing this to me!” His fingers moved as if grasping his smith’s tools. “I would like to try to capture those stars someday, Narvi. Their likeness, I mean. I love silver, but even silver would not be bright enough--it would have to be mithril, or perhaps ithildin.”

And Narvi could see it as he spoke: Durin’s crown of silver stars, gleaming in the moonlight.

Chapter End Notes

Narvi uses the present tense to speak of Durin because of the belief that the later kings named Durin were the first Durin reborn. The King of Khazad-dûm at the time would have been either Durin II or III, and so Narvi has heard these stories from Durin himself.

Durin awoke at Mount Gundabad: This is mentioned in The Peoples of Middle-earth, in the chapter “Of Dwarves and Men.”

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