Durin meets his destiny in the Barazinbar deeps.

When the world was young and the kingdoms of Men were still finding their place, Durin, father of the Dwarves, made his home at the centre of the Misty Mountains. Beneath the peaks of Zirak-zigil, Barazinbar, and Bundushathûr, Durin's folk carved out a vast kingdom forged from Dwarven skill and the wealth of the mountains. Driven by their lust for Mithril, successive generations of Dwarves delved ever deeper into the roots of the mountains, until their industry proved their undoing. In a dark and dismal place, where the only sound was the fall of hammers and picks and the only light came from torches and candles, the Dwarves awoke their doom: a Balrog of Morgoth, a deadly creature of shadow and flame, which rose from the depths and unleashed its fury.

In a series of devastating battles that consumed the lower levels in fire, the Balrog slew Durin, the King of Khazad-dûm, and brought ruin to his armies. Since the sack of Khazad-dûm, the halls of Dwarrowdelf have fallen into the hands of Goblins. Now it is called Moria – the "Black Pit." No more does the air ring to the sound of hammer on anvil or the crash of picks against rock. The halls no longer echo the rich music of Dwarf songs. Now there is only the skittering of claws on stone and the laughter of Goblin voices echoing through the broken halls. Cobwebs and debris fill the passageways and halls, and the once-fine stonework is cracked and defiled.

In the years since the fall of Khazad-dûm, the survivors of Durin's line have become scattered across Middle-earth. Some few of the Dwarf holds remain from the ancient days, and new ones have been founded. Of these, Erebor is the most worthy successor to Khazad-dûm. The Lonely Mountain, as Erebor is often known, is ruled by the wise king Dáin, a fierce and noble leader who embodies the might of the kings of Khazad-dûm that was. Now, Durin's folk long for the time when they have gathered sufficient strength to storm Khazad-dûm, slay the evil that lurks there, and wrest their ancestral home from the clutches of the Goblins who pollute it. Until now, any attempt to do so has failed at terrible cost, for even Dwarvish courage is no match for that ancient menace. Yet the Dwarves do not lose hope. They wait with grim determination for a time when the Balrog might be vanquished and the axes of the Dwarves might taste vengeance.

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