It was long ago when this tale began, a time beyond the reaches of memory. The world was green at that time, and it very young, freshly formed from the minds of the Valar in Valinor to the will of Iluvatar. The only creatures that crawled through the land would now be considered ancient and beyond belief. The world was also not round as it is today, but instead flat, falling off into the sheer walls of the world at its edges.
This story does not begin as the Universe did, instead, the labors and tales of both Gods and Goddesses had already taken place, with the Pillars of Illuin and Ormal being torn down many years before. The two trees of Valinor had just sprouted from the ground and grew into their beauty. The dew off the leaves of the silver Telperion was collected by Varda into vats of beautiful, silver light. Aulë, the shaper of the land, made for the dew orbs of vast beauty, which Manwë made holy, and Varda then set into the sky as a sign of hope for the Firstborn and Followers, who would come soon, just as Ilúvatar had shown them. To us today, they are known as the stars. The light of the trees wasn't contained by the Pelori at this time, instead it shone out onto the once desolate lands of Middle-Earth, shining like a beacon into the darkness. These were the days of the Bliss of Valinor.
Many of the lands in Middle-Earth were covered in dense forests, who spread their eaves to all corners of their land, with the inland Sea of Helcar in the far east, to the east the Orocarni (Mountains of the East), the bay of Cuiviénen in Helcar, and Hildórien, the eventual birthplace of the race of Men in the Southeast. The Quendi, the ancient ancestors of all the Elves, at Cuiviénen meet Oromë the Huntsman, three of the Elves were brought to Valinor and then returned to Cuiviénen to bring the rest of their kin to Valinor, and left the shores of Cuiviénen to reach the western shores of what would become Beleriand.
The Misty Mountains, Ered Hithui in the tounge of the Elves, were raised as they travelled to the western shores. These mountains were made by Melkor as a barrier to hinder the Elves, hindering some of the Elves, who would later become the Elves of the Woodland Realm during the Quest for Erebor. Even though these Mountains were created as an evil, Eru Ilúvatar once told Melkor beyond the bounds of the world that any should wish to change his will cannot do so, only adding to the beauty of his celestial design in the attempt. This proved true, as it was there, in the furthest reaches of the North, where Durin, Oldest and Fatherless, awoke.
A large crack preluded a streak of light that peered through a crack in the deep rock, slowly widening as the crumbling rock collapsed away, letting in the starlight into the hole onto the brow of Durin. It shone white and serene down onto the crags and boulders below. It was there on a bed of stone that Durin rested deep in sleep. He had laid there for many years, alive and not dead, but as cold and still as a stone. Beneath the surface, however, his dreams were vivid and fierce.
He was in a large cavern, sitting still on a large ledge, almost like a shelf for the master of that workshop. Large thuds vibrated throughout his body as that master hurried around from large tables and shelves that were covered in instruments, hammers, and drawings.
His dreams always were in the same cavern, vast and massive, stretching further than his sight would allow. Six others were with him, resting on the same shelf alongside him. They were each being cared for with as much sincerity as he was. Humanoid they were in appearance, with shorter bodies, long hair, and long beards that reached down to their waists, beards fashioned after the like of their maker's, and their faces were rough and cragged, almost like a slab of rock. Jewels shone from their eyes, fashioned as eyes for them to see, jewels indistinguishable from biological eyes and the jewels that lay in the earth. Everything, from their large nimble hands to the individual hairs on their beards, was crafted with immense care and understanding surpassing a mortal mind. The minds of Durin and his kin were blank and empty, only filled with their Maker's thoughts and will, who could not give them life, for he did not have the power.
Worn hands, dirty and muscular encompassed him. He was set down on the table and laid out like a doll. He was poked, prodded, and crafted even more extensively than he had already, making him slightly larger, almost five feet tall, with his vocal cords and mind being made ready to function. Lingering thoughts came into Durin's mind from his maker's subconsciousness. He was obsessed with making Durin and his brothers perfect, unmistakable from a human being. Slowly, Durin's mind awoke as his Maker turned to him. He spoke to Durin, imagining him to listen, causing him to do so in the process.
"I will teach you, Durin, a tongue that I have devised for you and your brothers. I call it Khuzdul, for you and your brothers are called the Khazâd. In your new language, I am called Mahal, the Maker, for I have crafted you out of the Earth with the same skill that I used to build the land itself" Durin tilted his head upwards, looking blankly into Mahal's eyes as he continued. "I will also teach each one of you my craft, from the simple carving of stone, to capturing light in gems. To you and your brothers, will be dominion over all that lay under mountain…and under stone"
Durin could see into Mahal's mind as he spoke. He saw desperation and passion, yes, but desolation. Little did Durin know or understand, but Mahal was afraid. He knew that what he was doing was wrong. He knew that Durin, along with his other brothers, were not meant to exist. In doing this, in bringing them to life, he was disobeying a power beyond comprehension. Mahal then turned away, walking over to another one of his workstations. He put laid his hands on his desk in exasperation, thinking.
"If only I could remember more…" he muttered in anger. "I have made them strong, unyielding, so as Melkor cannot corrupt them…but what I saw of the Children has faded in my memory…their design is inaccurate…" he trailed off. A small trickle of water began to trickle into the cavern, dripping right onto the workstation in front of Mahal. Hurriedly, Mahal struck the top of the cavern with his great hammer, halting the flow. He shuddered as he turned back to Durin. He quickly made his way to the shelf, grabbing the others and set them down next to Durin. He willed them to stand, and they did.
Durin looked at his brothers, the second oldest, Regin, with his broad shoulders and shorter stature, the third, Northri, with his bright red beard, the fourth, Hannar, who was built with iron, the fifth, Andvari, who was most unyielding and stiff, the sixth, Ái with his obsidian-black hair, and Jarin, the youngest brother of them all. Durin stood next to them, stroking his beard, which was considerably longer than those of the others.
Mahal then began to teach them all Khuzdul. After a long time, he left them to accustom their tongues to it. He traveled over to another shelf, one that lay on the opposite side of the cavern. On it, more humanoid figures lay, six of them at that time. They were different, they were female. Mahal had known his creations would need mates, as for why, Durin could not tell. Still, Mahal wished to teach his craft to all his creations, making the female Khazâd anything but the least in his eyes.
Each one was made with one of the seven in mind, but the final was still laying on the furnace, limp and motionless, unfinished. Mahal wished that her, the one for Durin, was perfect. Mahal knew that Durin was different from the rest of his brothers. He was special.
Another drip of water fell into the cavern, but Mahal was not aware of it, all his thought was bent on his creations. Right as he picked up the final one to finish her design, the cavern shook with immense power, almost collapsing at the sound of a new voice.
"Aulë" it said. It rang with immense power. The only thing keeping the cavern from collapsing was by the will of the new presence, Ilúvatar. The final Khazâd broke into many pieces in his hands, grieving Aulë deeply.
"Ilúvatar" he whispered in reply. His face was sorrowful and fearful. Durin and his brothers sat aside, not able to fully comprehend what was happening.
"I see your creations. Why do you wish to create life, when that authority has not been given to you?" Ilúvatar asked simply. "Do you not remember what I told you all beyond Arda? None shall be able to create life but I, Eru, the One"
Aulë remained silent, not wishing to speak for his shame was too great.
"Should you be just as Melkor was? Wishing to build life of your own? He may be your brother in my thought, but to you I gave a greater and more eternal task, to fashion my world and to make it in my image. To craft, instead of destroy" It was then that Mahal spoke.
"Please…forgive me" Mahal spoke, almost on the verge of tears. "Would you punish a child that copies his father out of admiration? The drive in me to create was given by you. I only…" he stopped, gulping in grief and horror at what he had done.
"I only wished to have a people to teach all that I know, so they may share in the beauty of the world alongside me" both fell silent. Mahal turned to his creations.
"I was foolish to think I could do this. Impatience is by far my weakest trait. I could've waited for your Children to come, but I did not. Ilúvatar…" he said. "I give my creations to you, so you may do what you will with them" He set all the Khazâd together on his workstation, willing them to remain still. Mahal then retrieved his hammer, striding towards them.
"You need not act" he told Ilúvatar. "I know what you wish for me to do with them, and though it saddens me to do this…I…I will destroy them" he raised up his hammer, readying to strike the Khazâd down. At the height of his swing, his grief overcame him, and he began to cry, with tears streaming down his face onto his beard.
A sharp strike then hit Durin, a strike that lit a spark inside of him as well as his brothers. For the first time, he could not see into Mahal's mind, instead, he looked around, feeling with his hands and felt the cold stone beneath his feet. He stroked his beard without Mahal willing him to, feeling very satisfied by the full hair reaching down to his waist. The others began to touch each other, shaking each other's hands, feeling their faces and hands.
It was then when Jarin saw Mahal's hammer. He yelled in fright, drawing each of his brothers to see what Mahal was to do. Each one of them held up their hands in defense, screaming in immense fear, cowering under the one who had made them. Still, Mahal did not falter and began to bring his hammer down onto the Khazâd.
Ilúvatar stopped Mahal's hammer and said to him: "Look Aulë. I have given your creations life. I have adopted them as my children" Mahal dropped his hammer in joy. He began to offer praise and glory to Ilúvatar, who was merciful to him. Ilúvatar then reminded him.
"Even though I have given them spirits of their own, they will not awake and traverse the Earth before my Firstborn, for I had willed it in our Music that they would come first, which I will not change" he said to Mahal.
"Of course!" Mahal replied. "There would be no other way"
"For that to happen…" Ilúvatar began, "They will sleep under the Earth until the Firstborn awaken. I will instruct you to where they shall sleep, for my infinite thought now has plans for them" he continued still. "Since you have made these people, who will one day be called Dwarves, before my Firstborn, they will be forever at odds with them many times before this world passes away" Mahal solemnly understood, but was still overjoyed at Ilúvatar's mercy. He then took each of the Khazâd, setting them in rooms of stone on beds on which they would rest.
With Regin, Northri, and their wives, Mahal took them beyond the sight of the other brothers, to Mount Dolmed in what would become Ered Luin, the Blue Mountains. There they slept together.
With Hannar and Andvari with their wives, he took them to furthest reaches of the Orocarni in the East, which would one day be called the Red Mountains. He took Ái and Jarin with their wives to the Orocarni as well, but to the southern-most reaches of the Orocarni, near to where Hildórien lay.
Durin, however, was placed North of the flatlands that lay between the lands east of the Blue Mountains and west of the Eryn Galen, which would become Greenwood the Great and later Mirkwood. When Melkor raised the Misty Mountains as a barrier to the Elves, a larger mountain was made over where Durin slept, rising high up into the sky with three peaks that connected the Misty Mountains to the Iron Mountains. He slept alone, for Mahal had destroyed Durin's partner.
It was there, when the Elves had passed beyond the Misty Mountains and towards Beleriand that Ilúvatar whispered into his ear, under the crack in the stone:
"Awake Durin, the Deathless"